A to Z of Halstead Whump
by The.sassgods
Summary: Just what the title says. A collection of one-shots based off different letters of the alphabet. All leading to one very hurt Jay Halstead.
1. A is for Asphyxiation

**Well. Here goes nothing.**

* * *

**Antonio's P.O.V.**

"I'm just saying, if you're gonna kill someone there are plenty of other ways to do it."

"Yes, but isn't pulling a trigger or pressing a button the easiest way?"

Erin and Jay walk up the steps to the bullpen, same coffee in hand, same dark circles under eye, different sides of the argument. Typical of these two.

I shake my head.

"Jesus Erin. I know you're a serial killer and all, but its monday morning, could we keep your plans of mass murder to a minimum?"

She throws me a look.

"Just because you don't have anything to do on a Saturday night doesn't mean you have to pick on the rest of us who do."

A small snort of laughter comes from Halstead. Somehow I get the feeling shes doing something much more dangerous with her Saturdays…

And judging from the look Voight gives the partners when he walks out of his office, so does he.

Huh. This could be interesting.

But Hank doesn't say anything, just starts the debriefing. We actually have an interesting one this week. Not that any of our cases are boring or anything its just- know what? Never mind.

So this guy, Clay Jameson, had recently made bail, and was wasting no time in restarting his business. Business being killing people for money. His signature? He strangles his victims using a thick cord, so there's no DNA left on the skin that would normally give away the killer. No jail time for him. And no way for his prey to escape.

What got him caught was when a couple months back, Intelligence was clearing an old apartment, and found the cord. Jay did, actually. After a bomb went off , that cord was his way out when the building collapsed on top of him. (long story) Anyway, cord went to evidence, which got him arrested, then the lack there of got him free.

Aaaaaaaaannnndd two days later, three bodies show up in various places, all strangled with the same marks of, you guessed it! A thick metal chord. So now we are all gearing up to go and split up to search this grimy hotel where he is supposed to be staying. Address courtesy of mouse, who hacked onto the many databases of Chicago's finest motels, (cough cough. yes, that was sarcasm.) and came up with Mr. Jameson's face on a ATM camera. Right across from the stumble inn 24 hour check in/out hotel. Where his car is currently parked.

"Well, if that isn't the ugliest shade of orange I have ever seen." I mutter under my breath. Me and Jay are parked outside the Doughnut shop across the street, waiting for confirmation that Clay was really in the building. We don't wait long.

"Okay, manager just confirmed it, Clay Jameson checked in about two hours ago; hasn't left yet." Erin's voice crackles over the radio.

"Room?" I ask.

"206. Second floor, left side."

"Copy" Jay and I reply simultaneously, before crossing the street and slipping into the back door of the main building. Footsteps pound pavement behind us. Olinski and Ruzek. We enter the hallway silently, and are no louder quickly moving down the hall, counting door number.

_201..202..203...204…._

Somewhere between 205 and 206 Erin and Voight join our little posse. Gathering around the door, Jay switches with Ruzek, moving to the back so he can use the gauge he conveniently brought with him. A little excessive for a deadbolt, but hey, overkill is underrated.

"CHICAGO PD!CLAY JAMESON!OPEN THE DOOR!"

A harsh thunk followed by a small grunt is the only reply. Odd, but now we don't need that warrant we don't have to search the premises. Except for one problem. The sound came from behind Olinksi. Not inside the apartment.

I look behind me in time to see Halstead on the ground, obviously dazed. A piece of rebar clatters to the floor in front of him. The source of the metal being the hand of Clay Jameson. With practiced ease and amazing speed, he whips his signature black cord out of no where, wraps it around Jays neck, and pulls the struggling cop upright, so Halstead's body is in front of Clay's. I call out a warning.

The unit as a whole whips around, guns high in the air, all searching for a clear shot. Nobody finds one.

"JAMESON!DROP IT!"

"Let him go, Clay!"

"You got no way out!"

We yell out in desperation. I look into Jay's eyes. They are scared and confused and very close to panic. He notices my stare, and seems to make an effort to relax slightly. I give him a nod.

_Trust us_

He attempts a small nod back but is thwarted by Clay tightening the rope some more.

"Jameson. Listen to me." Voight's gravel voice travels from my left.

"There is no way in hell we are letting you out of here. We both know that. So let him go."

"NO! No, I ain't making the same mistake twice! You ain't taking me!" The agitated man actually loosens the cord a fraction of an inch, losing concentration on his last victim. With each small breath, I see the light that was fading in Jays eyes, slowly return.

"Alright, then. What about him? Can we take him? Just let him go, Jameson. He didn't do anything to you." You can tell Voight regrets his words the second they leave his mouth, because, truth be told, Halstead DID do something to Clay. He found the murder weapon. He's the reason Clay Jameson was ever incarcerated. Apparently the criminal never forgot.

"Yes, he did. He put me through two years of HELL! I'm just getting even! He. Has. TO PAY!" As he speaks those last words, he crouches further behind Jay, and tightens the cord, putting all his weight on the ends, completely cutting off Halstead's ability to breath. Jays hands fly to his throat, pulling in vain at the foreign object that's killing him. I still don't have to a clear shot, nor does anyone else.

Our teammate is dying and we can't do anything about it.

* * *

**Jays P.O.V.**

Its days like today that make me wish I never left the army. And its situations like these that remind me it doesn't matter. Different place, same shit.

He's smart this guy. Wonder if he was ever in the army. Anybody who can hold a body in front of theirs, with nothing but a cord, and still block any real shot has to had some form of practice. And when he finally seals his fate by crushing my windpipe, I finally understand where he is coming from. Its a simple technique, really. One taught only to some, not because its special, but because not many people care. Hand-to-hand isn't really the most prominent form of fighting in Afghanistan, you know?

The assailant will grab each end of a rope with the opposite hands, then pull back slightly, so the rope crosses itself in an x. Throw the circle around your desired victims neck, and pull on the ends. It's an easier way to control the soon to be dead person, and there is much less effort involved. Just relax and let the dead weight of your body do all the work.

I know because that's how I killed a LOT of people.

And its _very _effective.

Maybe that's why he started killing people. Maybe one of his buddies or some one was killed. Maybe the same way he kills now. Maybe he's just insane and my oxygen deprived brain is still trying to compute whats going on. Either way, I'd like to breathe again.

Lungs begging for air, my vision is rimmed with a darkness that slowly grows, until the only things I see is the the faces of my team. Even this small mercy disappears as I slowly sink to the ground. While my vision sports different colored fireworks, my eardrums have no problem processing the many desperate yells and threats of my team. Unfortunately, words cannot hurt and they cannot help you. Physically, anyway.

My knees hit the ground. The carpet seems to be full little electrodes that fire into me the moment I make contact. They are like telephone lines, sending messages to my brain.

"_What are you doing?!" _ They scream at me. "_Your dying! DO SOMETHING!" _

My hands slowly fall from my neck, where they tried in vain to save me.

"_I can't. " _I reply to them. To the many people sending those messages.

"_What can I do?" _ I ask them as my muscles slowly relax. As if in response, my left hand falls onto something-something hard. And cold. Like metal.

The rebar. That god damn piece of rebar that he hit me with. My fingers slowly wrap around it. Well. There's always that option.

Fuck it.

Twirling the rusted metal between my fingers, my body releases one last burst of adrenaline, giving me the strength I need. Positioning the bar in front on me, I pull it back, forcing it through the left side of my abdomen at an upward angle, (hopefully) missing my lung, but hitting his.

See? This is the shit only TV can teach you. And for once cartoon physics works in the real world, because the rope slackens. My hands claw the carpet, pulling my body the last few inches off the pole, where I collapse to the ground. My heart beat pounds dully in my chest. But the air. Where is the air, that beautiful element called oxygen I have been so desperately craving? My lungs no longer call for it, no longer try to achieve it.

"I_t's over._" the little electrodes tell me. My conscious dims more in response.

"The cord." The whisper comes from the depths of my mind. "The cord must still be there." I want to move, to return my hands to my neck, where they might actually help. Nothing. My body does not respond. How could it? I don't even feel connected to it any more, like it stayed still while I ran away.

_"It's over"_

My thoughts drift into a dark, calm sea of peace. I let what's left of my self sink to the ocean floor. The soupy blackness welcomes me as I welcome it. I float in the space between life and death, vaguely considering what happens next. Will I rise to the surface of this vast body of water or will I sink deeper to the grey sands covering the ocean floor?

I do not know if time moves the same here, in this place of mystery and secret. But if it does then I have been here for no more than two minutes when I start to rise. It is slow at first. So slow I can barely tell I'm moving at all. Then I can see the surface coming closer and closer until Im roaring upward. With this movement comes the sudden primal instinct to, you know, breath.

Suddenly I'm moving, encouraging the force bringing me home. I am desperate to reach the open sky above, to reach the sweet air that I can find there. The underside of the sky rushes toward me and just as my head brakes the surface-

WHAM!

My body jerks, twisting to find a better position for the intake of air. Simultaneously my eyes snap open, (don't know when they closed but hey it's been a crazy day) revealing a dirty, white, water stained ceiling. A face moves into my line of vision, but I am unable to distinguish whose as my eyelids slide shut again.

"Jay?! Jay, can you here me?" Erin. She sounds pissed. Well, I just basically died on her. I guess she has a reason.

I manage to grunt in response. Ooh, and I manage to open my eyes, so I get my sight back. Ten points for Halstead.

I'm graced with a I-can't-believe-you-just-had-the-audacity-to-die-on-me-but-I'm-glad-your-alive Erin Lindsay smile. While my vision is blurry at best, I can still see the silent tears running down her face. She cups my face with her hands, and leans forward, gently placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Don't ever do that again." She whispers in my ear before sitting back and switching places with Antonio, who was previously occupied with pressing on my abdomen. Probably trying to staunch the hole there. Ehe. Whoops.

"Hey, Halstead I need you to do me a favor. You gotta stay awake, okay?"

It takes some effort, I didn't even think I could, but I manage to grind out a response.

" 'm so tired, man" My voice is sounds like I've been gargling nothing but gravel for three days. It's weak, so weak that Dawson has to lean in to hear. He smirks a little.

"Your always tired. Deal with it."

"Wow. Thanks Tony. Really appreciate the concern" I end the sentence with a small huff that aggravates some part of my throat, and I start coughing. Hard.

"Easy. Easy Jay." Antonio murmurs. When the coughs subside, I'm left wheezing and dead tired. Literally. My entire neck is throbbing and it hurts to think.

Yup. That's a thing. Get used to it. Because at the way my headache is starting to develop, I'm going to have to get VERY used to it.

"And, uh, don't talk either." He says as an after thought.

If I had enough energy to glare at him, I would have, but as it was, I could barely keep my eyes open. So I was content to just lay there, wondering how the fuck all this happened. It's quiet around me. No one seems to want to talk and if they do, it's in very hushed voices, making me wonder what exactly they don't want me to hear.

His foot steps seem to break this little spell we had going. Voight had always demanded the best of us, and I felt myself trying to be more attentive in his presence. He notices me trying to squirm into a sitting position and glances down to my mid section before raising his gaze back my face. He holds out a hand in a simple gesture._Stop._

As Voight turns to talk to Erin, I start to feel the effects of trying to move.

_Not my best idea..._

* * *

**Voight's P.O.V. (God help us)**

A small sigh escapes Halstead's mouth as he slips back into unconsciousness. Unbelievable. the kid was dead for almost five minutes and he actually thinks I'm gonna make him get up and move just because I'm the room. Typical soldier needs to stand attention for his superiors. You'd think after at least two years in Chicago, he would realize he's not in the army anymore. Shaking my head, I turn to Erin.

"How's he doin?"

She doesn't take her eyes off her hands, currently the only thing stopping Halstead from bleeding out. When she replies, her voice is thick with worry, but I can identify the underlying anger there to. Great. So she's pissed at me.

"He's losing a lot of blood. If that ambulance doesn't get here soon, I don't know how much time he-" Erin is cut off by sirens outside. A hell from Ruzek confirms the arrival of an ambulance. The medics are from 51 and don't waste anytime helping the detective who's done so much for them. Erin's hands are replaced by padding, which turns red almost instantly. Wary of his neck, they move him to a stretcher, bring him down the stairs, into the ambo and he's gone.

Jameson was dead before hit the ground. Even without the pipe Jay shoved through his lung, he was dead. The minute we had a clear shot we fired. I think Antonio counted. Six shots to the head. Intelligence fired at the same time. Bittersweet satisfaction courses through me as I think of the fact that, he probably doesn't even have anything left to call a head. And because of that I can't make him pay for what he did to those people. To MY detective. Instead I have to sit and stand and pace around the waiting room. Like eeeeeeeverybody else.

I think it's a new form of torture.

We had drive in silence behind the ambulance to the hospital. Watched as they took him to surgery. Heard as the doctor told us not to get our hopes up. Now we must wait.

Erin returns from the bathroom, where she was scrubbing the blood off her hands. His blood. I've been trying to push away the guilt that's been plaguing my mind but the effort is futile. He's part of my team. I may not agree with him all the time, but he is still my detective. And that makes him my responsibility.

Lindsay glares daggers at me as she walks by. Sighing I motion to her before she can sit. Walking toward a hallway she unwillingly follows.

When we reach a deserted corner at the end, she takes the initiative.

"What. Do. You. Want." The words are spoken through gritted teeth.

"Is there a particular reason you hate me, or are you just like this to everyone when your secret boyfriend is-"

I don't get to finish.

Her hand hits my face so hard I see stars for a second.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Her loud yell draws attention from some off the nurses. Although they look more interested in the fight then concerned.

"Erin-" I try again.

"NO! No, you don't get to lay that on me! Not now, not ever!" Her voice is dripping with venom and rage.

" I don't care that you're my boss, I don't care that you're my dad!" Tears start to pool on her eyes as she continues.

"You ever say something like that again, and I will leave you so fast it'll make you think I was never here!" Ooh. Ouch. That one hurt.

"This is why I have that rule Erin. Because you get to emotional and it will affect your work."

The look on her face hits me like a hard kick to the stomach. It's one full of pain, anger and betrayal. The last time I saw that much emotion on her face was when Camille died. Only this time I have caused that pain. I want to apologize, to tell her I put that rule in place to protect her, because I care. Because she's my daughter.

Her next words are with trembling lips and tear filled eyes. Lindsay's voice is calmer with a determination that fills me with dread.

"You right. It will affect my work. I'll be happier. I'll be smarter and more focused. I will have something, _someone_ to look forward to at the end of the day. I _love_ him, Voight. I do. And no rule you put in place is gonna change that. If you don't like it-fire me."

And with that she turned and starts to walk away. I lunge forward and catch her arm. She whips around, chest heaving as the tears finally spill from her eyes.

"But that's not why you were mad at me."

She pauses as though trying to remember.

"I was angry because you let him come with us. You knew it was on record that he found that rope. It's stupid, I know, but I thought you should've made him stay at the precinct."

"You really think he would've let that happen?! It would've looked like I thought he couldn't do his job." She sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

" I know. I just thought that maybe if you had pulled him from the case none of this would've happened." Erin looks up at me, eyes wide with undisguised fear.

" I can't lose him, Hank. I can't. I _won't._"

I gently pull her into a hug as she starts to sob.

"It's okay linds, it's okay." I murmur. "He's gonna be okay."

As an after thought I add "And I'm not going to fire either of you." She pulls away with an annoyed look that plainly spells '_Really?'. _I smile.

"Let's face it you think Jay is brave enough to leave you? He knows you'd kick his ass." This earns a tear filled laugh and a nod. She starts to dry her face with her sleeve, sniffing

"I'm still mad at you." Lindsay attempts a glare but there's little power behind it. "And I stand by what I said. I'm going to keep seeing him." I smirk. Persistent. As always. Glancing behind her I see a doctor emerge from the O.R. Gently I move turn her around, nodding to the surgeon.

Slowly we walk down the hall back to the waiting room. The team must've already received news because everybody's gathering their things, looking to either move or go home. As Erin moves to get her coat, I pull Antonio aside.

"Well?" The word comes out harsher than I intended but at this point I could care less. And Dawson, being the bastard he is, laughs.

"The idiot is gonna be fine. Lost a lost of blood and the whole oxygen deprivation thing is a concern, but no major organs were damaged in the process of Jay impaling himself. No the tough part will be keeping him in the hospital for the next week."

"The next _week_!?" Erin returns to my side with a look of amusement.

"Why? I mean it's gonna be fun teasing him about it but why do they need him here for a week?"

I share a look with Antonio. Oh yeah, she _definitely_ doesn't like him. Nope. Not at all.

"What room?" I ask before Lindsay can continue.

"204"

"Thanks. C'mon kid." Directing the last words at Erin, she scuttles down the hallway to catch up with me. She's got this dopey look on like she's trying really hard not to smile. Her gaze meets mine for second, and in that second she's knows she's won. A sigh escapes my mouth as we walk down the bland halls.

"Well, if you two are going all Romeo and Juliet, you just might have to choose different partners..."

Her laughter echos.

* * *

**Erin's P.O.V.**

**2 weeks later**

"OH TO FEEL THE SUN ON MY SKIN!" Jays yells in fake elation.

"Oh shut up." I punch him softly in the shoulder. I'm still wary of what his body could handle. Last time I touched him he collapsed to the floor.

Yeah. Way to go Erin.

Watching him walk to the car, I remember that day. I had managed to keep him relatively compliant with the hospital staff for about five days before _he_ had finally managed to get his doctor to give him the ok to leave.

_"You sure you're ready to leave?" I ask nervously. He shoots me an annoyed look. The same look he'd been giving me for the past two days, eversince I told him he couldn't leave just because he could move._

_"Yes, mother dear. Im ready." _

That had earned him a light slap across the back of the head. After which his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he promptly collapsed before I could do anything. Antonio found me crouched next to his body moments later. Sobbing. Apologizing. Begging him to wake up.

He did.

Two days later.

It was explained to me that I, in fact, did not kill him with a slap. Just that he had literally taken things to fast. His body was still recovering from the prolonged loss of air, and walking around an hour after waking up was not the best idea. Basically I happen to have the luck of hitting him at the exact moment he went to stand up, collectively making him pass out from exhaustion.

Yeah, I don't get it either.

Anyway, his little stunt got him another nine days in Chicago Med. With me hovering and staying away from him at the same time.

Jay has stopped hanging on the door handle waiting for me to unlock it. Something in my expression must say _help_ because he walks back over to me. Ever so gently he takes my face in his hands.

"Erin. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault, okay? You hafta believe me on this."

My eyes burn with unshed tears as I look at my partner. In more ways then one. His skin is still to pale and he looks like he hasn't slept in two weeks. But his eyes are clear and when I look into them I can only see love.

"I know." I mutter indignantly.

"If you know..." His forehead touches mine as he whispers his response.

"...then act like it." Breathing out heavily, I bring my lips up to his, and suddenly we're kissing in the middle of a hospital parking lot.

...

What? He's my boyfriend.

A honk sounds from behind us and Ruzek pulls up with Olinski in passenger seat of the escalade.

"EWW JAY! Girls have cooties!" He yells.

Jay pulls out his phone and pretends to fiddle with it. Looking at me he asks innocently

"Do you have Kim's number? I wanna tell her what her boyfriend thinks about her."

We laugh as Ruzek visibly pales.

"We're just kidding bud. Why you here?" Jay has his normal smirk on. And seeing as now he has dirt on Adam it makes me wanna copy him.

"We were supposed to tell you we are all going to Molly's and see if you needed a ride but I'm thinking its a not." Al's quiet voice drifts from the car.

"Naw, I got it. Thanks Al. We'll be there." And with that I turn steer him back toward my Chrysler.

We climb in and sit in silence for a second.

"Cooties Huh?" I look at Jay with a barely suppressed grin. The face he gives me is priceless. Bursting out laughing I turn the key and drive out of the parking lot into the night beyond.

* * *

**Woo-Hoo! That was fun. **

**Alright so this is the first installment of my little endeavor. It might take me some time to update (this thing took about three weeks to write) but I will try my best to completely ignore school and life for you guys. **

**Oh yes, the more reviews I am graced with, the faster I post! They're like giving cookies to a little kid to get him to work.**

**:D**


	2. B is for Bomb

**Okay. Let it be known that I am still trying to wrap my head around the amount of review. Like. Damn. You guys rock. :D**

* * *

**Jay's P.O.V.**

Voight is starting to annoy. Majorly. There was that whole thing with him dropping not-so-subtle hints around Lindsay and I in the bullpen that he knew. So we broke it off. But I guess that he didn't pick up on that because for our new case, I with atwater and Erin was with Voight or Antonio.

Why what is this new case you ask? Oh of course I'll gladly tell you.

It's not ours.

Surprised? No? Neither was I. It seems fifty percent of our cases now a days are from other units.

This one was from Arson. Well, actually this went from special crimes to Arson then they combined, and now we are taking the lead from Arson and all three units are supposed to be working on it. Intelligence was called in because its been two months and no progress has been made.

"So now we're the commander's clean up unit?!" I protest to Voight as he tells us.

"If the commander says we're on this, then we are on it. I don't care whether or not you like it." I exchange a glance with Erin. _Really? _She raises an eyebrow and shrugs. _He probably already had this conversation with Fischer.*_

Beyond annoyed, I grabbed my jacket and storm out of the bullpen. Atwater joins me.

"One of those days?" He asks. I grunt in response.

If only he knew.

O-/-O

We end up at an old address from Arson. The landlord had recently filed a complaint about one of his tenants, who happened to be a suspect in the case. It was a decent two story apartment building. Nobody lived down stairs so once Antonio, Ruzek and Olinski arrived we 'kindly' asked for access to the upstairs flat. He didn't really mind us, but it still took a promise from Voight (whom arrived with Lindsay not long after everyone else) that whatever we found wouldn't come back to get him in trouble.

Erin and Srg. went outside to talk to the neighbors, Atwater and I picked the first room closest to the stairs. The remainder of the team went down the hall to what looked like the kitchen. I step into a plain room. Dirty tile floor cluttered with junk and electrical components with white walls covered in penciled math equations.

"Hey Halstead. Come look at this." I move toward Atwater's gruff voice.

"What's up?" I ask, bending down to peer at the object in his hands.

"Does this...look like a bomb to you?" He holds up a plastic container with wires poking out of its white cap. We follow the electrical cords around the container, turning it over, only to find a small old fashioned stop watch.

"Why yes, Kevin, it does seem to look like a bomb. Except that a bomb needs some form of explosive on order to make it, you know, dangerous." The words come out a little more sarcastic than I wanted them to, but hey, a almost-bomb situation does that to you.

"Well, yeah, I understand that but-" Atwater stops mid-sentence, as Antonio's voice crosses the radio.

"Voight we got liquid explosives…" He continues but neither of us are stare at the bottle and my partner for the moment gives it an experimental shake. I try to identify the sound that emanated from inside. It's weird it sounded kinda like-

Like a slight little _swish._

_Almost like water…._

"_RUN!" _

I scream the warning, already sprinting to the door, basically dragging Atwater with me. We've just reached the door when it goes off.

There's this huge whoosh of air that seems to lift up my body as though by magic. Instinctively I curl into a ball, and when I hit the wall, I can almost feel the indentation I make. My back hits first, which is unfortunate, because when my head snaps back, Its got nothing to hit but the studs behind the paint.

And that's about where my consciousness decided to quit.

I can feel with a painful awareness as my body sliding down the wall. I become content watching shards of wood fly around me. My veins are filled with a heavy tranquility, urging me to relax into the black tidal wave that grows behind my eyes. Heat washes over my face as I watch flames start to devour the room I was just forcibly ejected from.

_Well….Shit._

The wall of blackness crashes down, and I know no more.

* * *

**Antonio's P.O.V.**

**In the kitchen. (Rewind five minutes)**

We move along the walls, checking drawers and cabinets. I open a door under the grimy sink, but instead of equally grimy pipes, I'm greeted by multiple rows of white gallon containers, the kind you might by bleach in. Pulling out my flashlight, I casually flick it on and shine it toward the tap label on one of them.

"Hey guys?" I call.

"Yeah?" Ruzek and Olinski answer at the same time. Shooting one another a look, Adam moves closer.

"What's up?"

"Why would someone need 20 gallons of Diethylene Glycol Dinitrate?" I hand him a jug. He gently shakes the bottle, making the clear liquid slosh around.

"Um...Al?" Ruzek asks keeping his eyes on the mysterious liquid.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't DGD an active explosive?"

A small period of silence fills the room as we look at each other in dread. I'm the first to move, grabbing my radio and notifying the team.

"Voight we got liquid explosives. The place could be rigged…" as I talk Ruzek slowly sets the carton on the floor and all three of us move toward the door. We've just reached it when a deafening 'PHOOM' rocks the building. I watch in horror as Jay and Atwater are thrown through the air, across the hall and slam into the wall. A wave of heat pushes us to the ground, where we instinctively cover our faces as pieces of wood and debris rain down. Coughing, I push myself onto all fours, checking for injuries.

"You good?!" I yell over the ringing my ears. There is another sound to. Crackling. Half acknowledging Al's response I to face the rest of the hallway. Smoke is filling the space, making the visibility level decrease dramatically.

Fire. Of course. You survive a bomb only to die in the f-ing fire.

At the end of the hall i can just make out a dark lump that is Jay Halstead. There is slight movement behind him, as Atwater stumbles to his feet. Taking Al's hand, I rise into a standing position and start moving toward my injured team mates. Voight is shouting over the radio, yelling at us to respond. My hand doesn't move an inch to the com. on my shoulder.

The flames have begun to engulf the room Jay and Atwater were in. If the flames reach the store of DGD in the back, we're all dead. Moving quickly to Jay, Al signals to Ruzek.

"Take him outside!" He yells over the now roaring fire. Adam doesn't object, just takes a dazed Kevin by the arm and leads him down the stairs. I turn my attention to Halstead. Its hard to tell his condition with all the smoke, but considering he hasn't moved an inch since hitting the wall, I'm gonna assume hes not doing too well.

Together, Olinski and I grab him under the shoulders, and in one smooth motion, pull the fallen detective upright. I put my arm around his waist, while simultaneously draping his arm around my shoulders. As Jay's head lolls limply against my shoulder, my hand registers a dampness seeping through his shirt. I don't need to look to know it's blood.

The fire has moved its way into the hall, threatening to block our escape route. The smoke has gotten so thick I can barely make out the stairs, and its doing nothing good for our lungs. I feel Halstead shudder as his body struggles to intake oxygen.

"Let's go!" I can't hear Al respond, but he moves with me as I pull toward the stairs. No sooner do we make it down the first step when another loud fireball erupts from behind. The force sends us flying down the stairs, slamming to a stop on the small landing. My arm is numb from where it thwacked into a railing and I'm pretty sure my head shouldn't be bleeding that much.

The second explosion did more than just catapult our part down a flight of stairs, it also dislodged a couple of major beams. Beams that fell right onto the next set of stairs. You know the ones leading _down _and _out._ And they're on fire, effectively destroying any chance of us maneuvering Jay around them. We sir, are well and truly _screwed._

On my hands and knees for the second time today, I realize that Olinski is now also unconscious. I check his pulse and, after finding to be strong, chalk up his state to the bump on his forehead.

Crawling over to Halstead, my emotions, which have been surprisingly absent, threaten to overwhelm me. Panic takes over when I struggle to discern if he's breathing. Pressing an ear to his chest, I can hear his lungs struggling to intake the toxic air. His breath comes in weird intervals, three staggered intakes of air, a pause, then two or three exhales. And theres this persistent rattling noise from his left chest. Guessing a broken rib or two pressing on his lung, I unconsciously run a hand over my face, wondering how this could get any worse. Sitting back I quickly survey the rest of his body.

I had to ask.

Whatever relief I experienced when I confirmed he was alive instantly disappears at the sight of Jay's torso. The jagged piece of wood in his abdomen makes it hard to tell if the sudden nausea if from smoke inhalation or the realization that my friend probably won't make it to see tomorrow. Gingerly touching the wood, Halstead jerks underneath me. Immediately I'm back by his head, hopeful he is regaining consciousness. Nothing. No fluttering eyelids, no moan that might suggest him returning to reality. Infact, the only change in his condition is that his breathing has diminished to the point that he's really just taking tiny breathes here and there. No rhythm. Just his bodys last ditch effort to help itself.

I think I would have cried had I not been exhausted.

Sirens echo outside. At least I hope they're sirens. One look upward shows the entire second floor taken by the inferno. It won't be long until-

The air pressure seems to drop before a sound like an atomic bomb rips through the house, seemingly tearing the building apart. Some merciful god allows the shock wave to be concussive.

_At least I won't have to feel myself being burned alive…._My last thought echos in my head as a wall of fire speeds toward me. Then all is quiet.

* * *

**Antonio's P.O.V. **

When you work with someone long enough, once you go past civil respect and becomes friends, you kind of become in sync with them. Now I'm not saying I know Jay as well as Erin, but I've been around him long enough to know when he's really agitated or not quite with reality. (Yes, I mean ptsd. Shut up I'm telling a story.)

I have also had the pleasure of finding out certain things he hates. Black coffee. The Islanders. Sitting still. Seriously, have you ever seen the kid stay in the same spot for more than five minutes?

But I have found that the thing he hates above almost everything else is hospitals. Even if he's not forced to stay in one, even if it's just walking in one for a case, he HATES them. Whenever he IS in one, he's always jittery, has a _very _sassy attitude, and his hands develop a tremor. Yah. Just imagine what it was like working with him during the terrorist attack on Chicago med. That long in a closed room with a bomb threat over his head. I thought he was gonna explode. To Halstead, hospitals equal hell.

And right now, I couldn't agree more.

They said I was lucky. We all were. Said that if the fire trucks hadn't come when they did, we'd be dead. Looking at the figure in front of me, I almost wish we were. It'd be easier. So much easier than trying to look at my battered face in a mirror or trying to look Lindsay and Will in the eye.

She had to tell him. While I was recovering from surgery, I guess Will had heard from the grapeline of nurses that multiple cops had been brought in from an explosion. He had called Halsteads phone, and, upon not receiving an answer, had called Lindsay.

I didn't know it was possible to feel any guiltier, until Olinski told me of the encounter. How Will and Lindsay had cried together. How he had told her he couldn't lose someone else.

Multiple burns, most first degree, a fractured Ulna, concussion, and many a stitched laceration from debris. Al was even better off.

They said we were lucky. But looking down at Jay's unconscious form, I found it hard to believe them. The many doctors and nurses had explained it to Intelligence, always updating us on his current condition, the next step they were taking, the next surgery. Nobody really understood until Will explained. Put it in stupid human terms.

Multiple broken ribs, a couple of which had pressed on, then punctured his left lung. Probably from our flying leap down the stairs. Second degree burns travel down his right arm below the elbow, ending at his hand. Nerve damage is out, and there should be no scar, but he won't be able to hold a gun for almost three weeks. And that's just his right arm. His left wrist was shattered, shoulder dislocated, broken collar bone. His doctor said we have to wait till when he wakes up to see if he can even feel his left arm at all. It took a five hour surgery to fix his lungs, ribs, shoulder, and wrist. Plus a severe concussion, nobody can do anything about.

Oh yes. I almost forgot the cherry on top. They found a fracture in one of the vertebrates in his spine. So IF he wakes up, and every nurse we ever talked to made it clear it is an IF, he may not be able to move his legs.

I was discharged 6 hours ago, and came straight to his room. I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact Jay Halstead might never walk again. Never skip his way to a cup of liquid caffeine, or chase down a suspect. Never be able goof off with me on a basketball court. _Never wear a badge again._

He should be dead. I should be staring at Jay Halstead's body in the morgue, not a clean hospital room. But he isn't and I'm not so now I have to deal with how shitty life is. Which is stupid. Because for the last five and a half hours, (I did change and eat food before Voight let me see him) I have alternated between hating myself for daring to think I have a shit filled life and hating myself for not doing anything.

_He has it so much worse than you._

Yeah, and whose fault is that? You should've done something. You could've done something. You chose to ignore-

_Ignore what? There was nothing I could do, I couldn't stop the bomb from going off._

You could have moved faster. If you had warned him sooner, he wouldn't be in this mess. None of you would. You could've had a slight case of smoke inhalation at worst. Instead you and Ruzek and Al stared at each other like rookie beat cops.

_This isn't their fault._

No. It's yours. You brought him into this unit, remember? Now he's gonna die for you.

The last thought makes me gasp. I pull my hands from each respective pocket, pressing them to my burning eyes. I pull them away, surprised to find them wet. I look back to Jay.

His face is almost as white as the pillow it lies on, and he has one of those little plastic tubes under his nose, giving him fresh oxygen. Will said they were gonna intubate him to help his lung heal, but were equally afraid that if Jay woke up to a tube down his throat and freaked, it would only damage his broken body more. I was glad. It gave the false illusion that he was gonna be ok.

I grab the edge of my chair and pull it closer to the edge of the occupied bed. For the lack of anything productive to do, I find myself studying his hand. It's weird, but I never noticed how many scars he has. I'm sure all of Intelligence assumed he had some from the war, but just looking, and I mean really looking, at his hand proves Jay has a lot of physical ones we've never seen. There's a long diagonal slice that twists around his palm, across the back of his hand, and reconnects with itself back on his pinkie knuckle.

It's the exact place one would wrap a rope around their hand if they needed a better grip. Kind of like what someone would do To keep themselves from falling. No. To keep _someone else_ from falling.

My jaw clenches in anger. Halstead went through so much shit overseas, only to come home and face the same shit as a cop. I know Afghanistan is on a whole different level than Chicago but still. He doesn't need it.

It occurs to me that nobody has come into the room since I arrived, not even a nurse. Maybe Voight told them to leave us alone. I couldn't care less, but all the same, I'm grateful for the peace.

The silence filling the room suddenly becomes oppressive, I am desperate for noise besides the beeping of machines. Reaching out a trembling hand, I gently enclose his in mine. And I talk.

I tell him the whole story of our rescue. Tell him how the beam that trapped us also saved us when the building collapsed. How the collapse also extinguished the most of the fire. How one of his many cuts is from when Severide pulled him out of the window about the landing. I don't skip details. I don't cut out how Erin sobbed and begged him to live. I don't skip over where Voight actually looked scared.

I've just reached the end, when I see I've been talking for over an hour and it's 8:05. A girl comes in and tells me visiting hours are over while fiddling with Jays I.V.

I nod, and am about to stand when the hand, the limp, scarred hand of his returns my grip. My gaze instantly snaps to Halstead's face. Two clear blue eyes connect with mine.

"Damn" he says in a rusty voice.

"You were just getting to the good part."

* * *

**Yes.  
That's the end.  
Please don't kill me! C is gonna be the follow up so its okay. **

***I think that's the new commander's name but I am probs wrong so don't freak out if it is. **

**Review? **


	3. C is for Caught in a Robbery

**Heeeeyyyy I'm alive! Sorry for the uber long break, this one was really hard to write. I'm still not pleased with how it came out. Also I went back and fixed a and b. _That_ was embarrassing. AND THAT FINALE GUYS! UUUUUUGGGHHHHH! **

**I can't. I can't even get started on that. Or like season two in general. Oh well. **

**You guys ready for Chicago med?! I'm so excited! but also scared at having my heart ripped out by another show.**

**Anyway. This is a long one. Not quite as exciting as last chapter but its a closure chapter if you would. Oh yes and I must address-**

**THE LINSTEAD DIEHARDS**

**-Guys. hate to break it to you. But not everything is about lindsay and halstead. I really like the idea getting to know the rest of the teams relation ship with Halstead. That said=I added Erin into this one, and next chapter is going to be Linstead explosion. So as always-**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Jay's P.O.V.  
**  
"You sure you ready for this?"

"For the hundredth time, yes, Will, I am completely ready to go home."

"Considering you almost just fell on your face when you stood up, I'm having some trouble believing that." I try and stifle another groan, but unfortunately my brother notices. Jesus, since when did putting on a shirt become this hard?!

He steps forward and gently pulls the tight but surprisingly soft long sleeve over my head. I have been struggling to get dressed for the last half an hour, snapping at Will every time he offered to help. Now, with the exception of my shoes, I'm ready to leave. Minus the fact that my chest if on fire and I can barely breath because of the pain.

"Will-" I gasp, he instantly switches to doctor mode. I reach an arm out to grab a hold of the bed and he grabs a hold of my shoulder.

"Okay, okay, just breath Jay, just breath. It'll pass, just breath." I don't look at him. I don't really look at anything, my gaze just happens to find the floor. He is right, the pain fades, but I have to force myself to revert to small, semi-relaxed breathes. My chest still feels tight and closed in, leaving on the constant edge of panic. Since waking up to Antonio's horrible story telling skills, I've developed this enormous fear of not being able to breath.

You think I'm kidding? Just ask Erin. I scared the shit out of her when I had a panic attack a couple days ago. It was the day after they finished weaning me off the heavy pain meds, and I had been talking too much (it gets me out of breath really easily) and I just freaked out. I thought I was dying again and I couldn't deal with it and then I was screaming and I guess somebody sedated me because all can really remember is waking up the next morning.

Yeah. I'm having a fun week.

Nodding slowly, I release my iron grip in the bad rail and straighten up with caution.

"I'm good, I'm good."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out I'm trying to convince myself as much as him.

Despite my protests, my brother manages to wrangle me into a wheelchair for the trip to the car. Then again, considering it takes me a good five minutes to get in the car, the wheelchair was probably a good idea. Sighing with exhaustion, I lean my head against the window, but refuse to fall asleep.

Another one of my new fears-sleep. I refuse to do it. Consciously anyway. Sometimes my body shuts down without my say so, and I always wake up trembling in a cold sweat. It's less like sleeping and more like me passing out. So when we make it back to my to my apartment I head to the bathroom, take some pills and head to the couch instead of my bed. Which, of course, Will notices.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Sighing, I painstakingly drape a blanket over me and reply.

"Gonna watch the hockey game."

"No, you're going to get in bed and get some sleep." He contradicts.

"I can sleep on the couch."

"Jay."

"Will."

He huffs in defeat. "Yah know, if you weren't so damn adorable I'd kick your ass."

I grin at the long time joke.

"But you LOOOOOOVVVEEEEE MEEEEEEEE!" I say as loud as my lungs allow. We both burst into laughter and even though it hurts like hell, for one short second I lose my fear of asphyxiation and just relax. The painkillers start to kick in. Eventually the hockey game has my eyelids drooping and before I know it, I'm lost in a soft black abyss of painless sleep.

* * *

**Will's P.O.V.**

As soon I'm sure Jays asleep I grab my keys and head out, making sure to lock the apartment. Erin had texted me to come to the precinct as soon as possible, not explaining why. I don't bother bringing my wallet, although now that I think about it, I probably should have. I could have picked up some more gauze and shit for Jay. I'm pretty sure the only medical supplies he has in his apartment are his toothbrush and some Tylenol.

By now I've reached the 21st and am walking up the steps leading to the main... Greeting area? Lobby? Whatever you call it, it's the little room that is home to Platt's desk, the commander's office, and the stairs leading to intelligence. Platt gives a me a look.

"You're late. I thought doctors were supposed to be on time."

Shrugging off her tone, I just reply.

"Yeah well, I got not specific time to come. Besides he kinda refused to fall asleep. I was beginning to think I was going to have to slip something in his drink."

She raises her eyebrows, which I'm thinking is the closest she'll get to a smile, and walks out from behind the desk, leading me up the stairs to Jay's team. They're all huddled around the whiteboard, talking about some case. Platt has to announce my presence, but takes the initiative exits immediately afterwards to avoid getting run over my Intelligence as they crowd me, all talking at once.

"Hey Will how's-"

"Is he okay? Why are-"

"How's he doing-"

"Do you need anythi-"

"What's wrong-"

I raise my hands in defense.

"Guys!GUYS!" They quite when they realize they're hoarding around me.

"Nothing's wrong. We don't need anything at the moment. He's doing fine...physically."

Sighs of relief are heard all around,although the worried faces stay.

"What do you mean 'physically'?" A younger member of the group, I think his name is Ruzek, questions.

"His ribs are healing well, as is everything else. He still has trouble balancing if he stands up to fast, but it shouldn't last. Everything we worried about with brain damage is proving to not be an issue. Jay is healing fine." I finish with a sigh that Erin catches. She gives a skeptical look.

"But...?"

I glance to the floor as their boss emerges from his office. Must be Voight. He must sense my hesitation because he nods at me to continue.

"He almost had another panic attack today, he refuses to eat, he's barely sleeping and he still won't look at me." Erin's shoulders drop and she presses a hand to her mouth shaking her head.

"Damn it." She whispers. At first the team had been ecstatic at Jay's recovery...until a couple things became clear. Like how he would be off the job for about a month and a half. And how it would take longer than that for Jay to return to his old self.

The team disperses back to their desks, shaking heads and sighs telling me they feel the same as Erin.

"Okay. Okay um, I'll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe get Voight to talk to him too." I nod in agreement with her and turn to walk down stairs. A hand catches my arm, and Lindsay gives me a look full of sorrow.

"Take care of him alright?"

"Yeah." My voice comes out hoarse and weak so I repeat the response.

"Yeah, I got him." She nods carefully and returns to her desk. I exit the bullpen and am making my way to my car when the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Will-" A scratchy voice is heard from the other end of the line, sounding scared, lost and exactly like my brother.

_"Jay?!"_

"Will there're here. There's people here but I don't know them and I can't-" I cut him off because he's not making any sense and I just can't stand how scared his voice is.

"Woah, woah, slow down. Who's there? Where are you?"

"I-I'm still at the apartment, in the bedroom closet. These guys, they're all dressed up, like, in black f-for a rave or something. I just don't know why they're here, I mean-"

"Jay. Jay stop for a second. Did you hit your head again?" There's a small pause before a barely audible "I don't know."

Damn it. He must of, it's the only reason he would be this disoriented. I get into my car, scrambling for the keys to turn the ignition.

"Alright, just stay there, I'm coming home. Don't come out unless it's me. Got it?"

"Okay. Hurry Will, I think they're bad." He whispers.

"Yeah, Jay, I'm coming."

I break every traffic law there is getting to the apartment. I pull into the parking and scramble up the stairs, somehow managing to dial Erin on my cell simultaneously. She doesn't answer and I'm too rushed to leave a message. I burst through the door onto our floor and run down the hall contemplating dialing 911. Once I see our open door though, I throw caution to the wind and my way inside.

I'm greeted by a scene I won't soon forget. The apartment is a mess, shit thrown everywhere, various broken appliances scattered across the floor. And there on the ground having the life choked out of him is my baby brother. Some criminal in black clothing is straddling Jay with two gloved hands wrapped around his next. Jay weakly paws at the offender's hands but that's where his struggles stop.

Fear and anger battle in me, making my throat constrict. What was meant to be a couple choice swear words ended as a indistinguishable yell of rage that does the job just as well. The man looks up and seeing me, stands and sprints for the door, completely bypassing me on his way out. I make no move to stop him.

A weak moan emirates from the lump that is my brother, pushing me into action. I jump over a broken lamp and slide to my knees beside him.

"Ooohhh, damn it Jay." I whisper, taking in the blood covering his face and the huge bruises starting to form on his neck. I whip my head around wildly, searching for some form of cloth. Grabbing a near by dish towel, my hands search for the worst wound...which is basically his face.

"Shitshitshitshitshitshi_-"_ _Stop it!_ I mentally scream at myself. _C'mon Will. You know what to do._

Folding the cloth into a large square, I press it tightly against my brothers bleeding skin. I rise into a crouch and keeping pressure on the wound(s) as I do a little hop to his opposite side. This gives me easier access to his head. Leaning forward, I use my other hand to gently probe his neck, hissing at how discolored it is. Not to mention the redness and heat, indicating swelling.

Suddenly there is a loud band behind me as something, I can only assume the door, is kicked harshly.

"POLICE!" A female voice screams out. Way beyond startled, I whirl around, face slack in shock.

"Will?!" Jay's partner, Erin Lindsay stands, gun drawn with a face of horror I can only guess that mirrors mine.

"Erin! Why are you-"

"You didn't answer your phone." She says cutting me off as she strides past me, quickly checking the rest of the apartment. Jogging back, Lindsay pulls out a phone-radio thingy and spouts some random police code, then crouches next to me. I stare at her in a morbid fascination. So _that's_ what it's like for everyone when I talk medical terms.

"Will!" Erin snaps her fingers in front of my face, so it wasn't the first time she called my name.

"Huh?"

"What happened?!"

"H-he called me, um, when I was a-at the-_at my_ car and he said there were people here. He hit head-"

"Obviously." Erin mutters. She looks up at me, guilt dancing across her face.

"Sorry. Did you see what happened? This place looks like a tornado came through it."

"Yeah. He said that there were "people" here. I'm pretty sure they were trying to rob the place. Maybe there was more but the only guy I saw was choking Jay so-"

"Did you see him? The offender?" Lindsay's voice is softer, like she's not really paying attention to the question she speaks, but more focused on the dark purple contusions showing on his neck and now starting to show on his hairline and beneath the blood.

"Not really…" She nods, her fingers lightly trace his jawline. Her eyes seem lost in the blood.

"Erin?" Blinking, she seems to snap back into cop mode.

"What the fuck are we doing?! We need to get him to a hospital!" I throw her a 'really?' glance. She throws one right back.

"Sorry Will, but your not Chicago Med."

"I understand that but I have nothing to keep his neck and head stable and moving him without that could make his condition worse."

"Yeah well, Jay is lying unconscious on your floor after having the shit beaten out of him and then almost being choked to death. There isn't much worse he could get."

I glare at her.

"He could be _dead._"

Erin narrows her eyes.

"Touche."

She stands and gazes around the room, blowing a deep breath out of her mouth in frustration. Finally she reaches into pocket and pulls out her phone/radio thingy.

"Main what's the ETA on that ambo?" She tilts her head to the side, pressing the hand with the radio to her mouth.

"Ambo to 44 West Brooke Avenue, apartment 404, three minutes out." A monotone female voice sounds in response. Erin closes her eyes in defeat. She opens them to stare at me.

"What do you need me to do?"

We don't waste a second. I motion Erin to take my place besides him.

"Make sure he keeps breathing." I instruct before jumping up and rushing to the bathroom, where I grab some small towels and an ace bandage. Returning to the living room, I kneel on the other side of Jay, explaining my idea.

"Ok, we're gonna use these to put pressure on his head wound." I say rolling up the towels and unwrapping the stretchy bandage.

"What about his neck?" Lindsay questions.

"The EMT's will use a brace that's far better than anything we could come up with. This is just to minimize the time they'd waste having to treat him here, therefor getting him to the hospital faster." While speaking, I had placed a rolled towel on each side of my brothers head, then wrapped the ace around the towels and his head tightly, effectively slowing the bleeding.

Just then the paramedics arrive, shoving me and Erin away, a flurry of activity. Sure enough, the first thing they did was strap a yellow and white standard neck brace around him, wary of the bruising. Gesturing towards the us two bystanders, me and Erin help move him onto a backboard, then carry and load him into a waiting ambulance. Lindsay offers to stay behind and deal with the apartment, so I jump into the back with Jay.

My job of doctor is over, and in its place is the job of the worried family member. Sitting in the back of that ambo, Jay lying on a gurney in front of me, I suddenly understand what all the patients family feel like. All those times we had to pull screaming people of their loved ones, I can relate to them now. Because I am sure that if _anybody _tries to take my brother away from me I will most certainly try to kill them. Unconsciously I grab his hand and squeeze, using like a lifeline to keep down my panic and emotions.

Now Jay has been out since the guy stopped strangling him. A couple times I thought he was resurfacing back to consciousness, but he never quite made it to being awake and responsive. So you can imagine my surprise when the hand in mine squeezes back.

Slowly I move my eyes up to his face, where a pair of dull blue eyes peer at me with exhaustion.

"Hey." He says in a voice more hoarse than when he woke up a week ago. He did the same thing then too. I had been curled in a chair next to him, gripping a phone in trembling hands, trying to work up the courage to call my dad and tell him his estranged son almost died. Jay had been sleeping next to me. I hadn't seen him awake yet and my brain computed that to him still being in a coma even though logically I knew he wasn't. When he shifted and pryed his eyes open to gaze at me I thought I held my breath. When he flashed a weak smile and gave the same hoarse "hey" I breathed out and fought the urge to slap him for being so nonchalant.

Just like now. Only its more like the urge to punch him. He smirks tiredly, looking like he's hopped up on something. Like he's super relaxed, you know?

"It's ok. You can punch me later." He whispers, reading my mind. I give a short bark of laughter and we arrive at the hospital.

"I'm going to wrap you in bubble wrap then store you in a nice white padded room with cameras to keep an eye on you." I tell him as we get out of the ambo.

"That wouldn't work, I wouldn't be able to breath." Jay mumbles while we move into the ER. I shoot him a quizzical look.

"Mythbusters man. Go look it up on YouTube." He answers my unasked question before he is wheeled past the authorized only doors and I loose him. About a million questions fly threw my mind, including whether or not I'd be able to use my badge to get pass those doors and help work on him. Although I know what'd Jay would never let me live that down if I did.

Pushing the thoughts away, I turn and exit the hallway, finding a suitable chair in the waiting room. Pulling out my phone I call Erin.

"Erin Lindsay."

"Hey, Erin."

"Will! Are you at the hospital? Which one? Is Jay okay? What happened?!" I smile at her rapid fire questions. There is no way she doesn't have feeling for him. Even if she doesn't know it. Her tond of voice matches that of wives worried about their husbands.

"Yes, Chicago Med, I'm thinking he's might be okay, he woke up on the way here." Her sigh of relief us audible over the phone.

"Thank god. You said he woke up? Did he know where he was? Like...was he _with_ us, per say?"

I pause for a moment before realizing what she means.

"Yeah, I think so. I-Well, he recognized me and he referenced his favorite TV show so I guess it's safe to say he still knows me and you and his self."

"He referenced hockey?" She says in a flat tone.

"No. Mythbusters."

"Ah."

"Mmhmm." I hum in agreement. A nurse appears and motions to me.

"Listen, I gotta go but um, I'll call you later when I know something ok?"

"Sure, Will thanks."

"No problem." I say hanging up. The nurse glances at me.

"Will Halstead?" She says, unsure. Nodding I stand up, closing the distance between us and pocketing my phone.

"How is he?" Grimacing at my tone. Am I really that desperate?

"He's stable." My eyebrows raise in surprise. I mean we got in here fifteen minutes ago. Last time we waited almost four hours. She must understand my shock because she elaborates.

"All of our concerns about fractured facial or spinal bones were abated by a couple of x-rays. He has a minor concussion and given his other recent injuries he will be going in for a MRI and CAT scan later. Right now he's resting in...202." The nurse continues, checking her charts.

"Minor concussion...that explains the confusion." I murmur to myself.

"Confusion?" The lady asks.

Nodding absently I explain.

"I talked to him before the strangling part. He was really kinda out of it, if you know what I mean."

She frowns, then consults her clipboard again.

"Well, he goes in for the scans in five minutes or so. He'll be out and awake by seven, if you want to come back then."

"Yea-hold on, 'awake'?" The nurse blinks, then realization spreads across her face.

"Oh, it's nothing bad, it's just with his throat we didn't want him talking and ironically he wouldn't shut up, so we sedated him. He kind of drifting in and out of sleep right now. However the swelling around his throat has started to go done at significant rate. We think that by tonight he should be able talk without damage to his vocal cords."

She smiles then excuses herself to check on other patients. I check my watch-5:30. Well, I got time. Not wanting to sit in the hospital for an hour and a half, I exit and call a taxi upon realizing I don't have a car. on the ride around Chicago I text Erin, who notifies me I can go back to the apartment.

I open the door as she's walking out which results in an awkward dance of trying to get out of each other's way while getting in each other's way. Finally we each end up on our right sides of the threshold, where we pause trying to find something to say. Eventually I ask her to stay so we can talk.

"I really shouldn't-" I cut her off, holding up a white plastic bag.

"I got Chinese food." She stares at the bag.

"How could I resist."

* * *

We end up eating on the floor in the living room. The couch hadn't been taken but there was a lot of broken glass on it and neither of us wanted clean it up. C'mon man. The lo mein was waiting.

As we eat I tell her about Jay's condition and she informs me on the case. Much to my surprise, they think it was just and average robbery.

"So you're saying they had no idea a cop lived here."

"Nope."

"Idiots." I mumble with a mouth full of food which Lindsay swats me for. I grunt in response and put down my food, checking my watch.

"Hey, its almost seven. You wanna give me a ride to the hospital? My shift starts soon anyway."

She nods and starts cleaning up the food, a frown on her face.

"You're still going to work?"

I don't answer right away, my attention pulled to a broken picture of Jay, my mom, and I. Jay was about three years old and I'm holding him while sitting on my mom's lap. The picture was taken at the exact moment a dragonfly landed on Jay's nose, and he just about goes cross eyed trying to see it.

Best. Blackmail. Ever.

"Will?" Erin's worried voice pulls me from my revere.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Well, its not like they are going to let Jay go home tonight, so the hospital is the closest place I can be to him and not look like a stalker."

She doesn't say anything, just steps up behind me, peering at the picture over my shoulder.

"Oh wow." Lindsay whispers, a huge smile spreading across her face.

"Is that- tell me that's Jay." I grin, my face matching hers.

"Yup."

"Oh my god! His eyes are the size of dinner plates!" She dissolves into giggles and snorts, while I stare trying to figure out if I should laugh with her or get a camera to film this. Like. She's laughing so hard she's _literally_ crying. It's pretty amusing. Finally she calms and looks at the picture again, pointing to the woman in the back.

"Who's that?" I swallow before replying in a quiet voice.

"That's our mom."

"I've always wanted of meet one of Jay's parents." My heart freezes for a moment.

"Well, it'd be hard to really get some face time with her." I say as nonchalantly as possible, turning my back to Lindsay so she won't see my face. Instead I pick up my keys and wallet from where I deposited then upon entrance.

"Why's that?" comes the inevitable question.

"She's dead." I say as I walk out the door, leaving a shocked Erin standing with a picture of broken memories.

* * *

"The CAT scan and MRI went well. No signs of any permanent brain damage from the most recent attack. As you know, he will still have some scarring from...the last time he was in here, but nothing new was shown."

Erin and I share a sigh of relief at the news.

"He's back in room 202. You can see him." The nurse, Miranda, smiles at me then walks away back to her job. I glance at Lindsay.

"Listen, um…" I stutter, not really knowing how to ask/tell her my request. She seems to understand my mood and gives the tiniest of smirks. Feigning a yawn, Erin makes a big show of stretching.

"Oh,man,I gotta get that beauty sleep, my goodness what an exhausting day, good luck to you, bring you guys breakfast in the morning?" She says in a super rushed manor.

"Yeah, sure." I stop for a sec, guilt plaguing me. I mean she _is_ his partner…

"Hey Lindsay-" I start before she shushes me.

"Will. I get it. Besides. I, uh. I don't really want to see him like..._that_ again." My head bobs in understanding. Her voice breaks at the end and she tries to hide it with a smile.

"Thanks."

She hums an affirmation as she promptly walks toward the exit. I turn and make my way to Jay's room, halting just outside the open door. With a sigh I take in the deep purple and blue contusions across his neck, the butterfly bandages that litter his face, as well as the large piece of gauze taped just below his hairline. His eyes, which were just about closed widen at the sight of me.

I walk further into the room, dropping into a chair next to his bed.

"You gotta stop doing this Jay." He shoots me a weak glare.

"Yeah, because I hired those men to beat the shit out of then strangle me and I made and planted that bomb."

Jay's voice is the same as it was in the ambulance, only this time it's dripping with sarcasm and anger.

"That's not what I meant." His eyebrows raise in mock surprise.

"Oh? Really? Then, pray tell, what did you mean? I don't want to be here any more than you want me too. This isn't my fault." He pauses.

"And it's not yours."

My eyes snap to meet his.

"How-"

"I'm your brother Will. I know how your brain works. Even when there's no possible way it could be your fault, you still blame yourself."

"That's not true." I try but, Jay narrows his eyes at me.

"When we were kids, _I_ would break something, and you would feel bad for doing it. Even though you never actually _did_ anything."

I smile at the memory (That really did happen) before my face falls once again at the last sentence. And of _course_ he notices…

"Will. You did your job. I'm fine. What happened isn't anyone's fault but the people who did this. Not me. Not you. _**Them. **_Get. That through. Your thick. Skull."

I huff in acceptance. He raises an eyebrow.

"Ok, ok, I get it." A blink. Finally I throw my hands up in surrender.

"Alright it wasn't my fault! Happy?" Jay grins.

"Slightly." Rolling my eyes, I stand and check the time.

"Hey, my shift is gonna start soon, I gotta go. Lindsay is bringing us breakfast tomorrow and driving us home."

"Sweet." I tilt my head.

"Seems you got your appetite back, hmm?" He cocks his head to the side mirroring me.

"Yeah. Guess I'm just...more happy with life."

"Man, they got you on some good drugs huh bro?" Jay laughs and holds up a hand.

"Brothers, right?" My eyes light up with the memory of the first time our mom heard us say 'bro' to each other. She was so pissed.

"_Bro is too generic for you boys. You call friends 'bro'. You call family 'brother'."_

I do our signature hand shake from a gazillion years ago, my heart light.

"Brothers."

* * *

**Welp, glad that's over. Did you guys catch my reference to one of bubbly88Tay's story's? Id go read it. its awesome. As is Bluejay141519's The Fall. I'll tell you if she notices.**

**Next up is D for Drugged.**

**Review?**


	4. D is for Drugged

**A/N - Hey there guys! So, this might be a longish chapter, however, I have been working on this one since the beginning, so that's it's excuse. However, I like how it turned out and it's really different than what you have seen thus far. **

**We have romance, we have family-mance, a clean shaven Olinksy…**

**Anyways, this probably doesn't seem like it would happen ever, however, that's the joys of fiction, you can make it happen. **

**I hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer - It's not mine. Not yet. After this, I will probably never get it. **

* * *

Jay swished his keys around his fingers exhaustively, relishing in the way that he caught them with his tired grip every time they would swing around. He stepped out from underneath the streetlight he was standing in as he stopped with the keys, fixing the jacket and his bag as he continued the long walk to his apartment complex entrance. Parking had always been a problem, and he was normally lucky when he found a spot less than a block away.

Hey, that might be what parking garages are for, but what's the fun in that.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he walked past the entranceway to the alley right beside his building, fire exits leading up the sides. He glanced down at the dim lit device and cursed at the lack of battery his phone had left.

"Stupid thing." He murmured, pocketing it as he began to continue on. He had just walked by the mouth of the alley when he felt a hand suddenly cup its way across his mouth, then down to grip his throat with an arm. Jay lashed out with his own arms, catching flesh with a random fist before he felt a sharp, acute pain on the left side of his neck.

Almost instantaneously, his panic grew as his limbs went numb. Soon he couldn't even stand for himself as he was pulled back into the alley and onto the cool, harsh ground. "Fighter you are. Should make this fun."

The last thing Jay could make out before he slipped unconscious, was the light from the apartment window he was lying underneath.

* * *

Jay wasn't going to lie. Nah, this wasn't the worst way he had ever woken. However, being that most of those reasons were considered classified by the United States Military, Jay was going to go ahead, go out on a limb, and just say that this would be the worst way he had ever awaken from slumber, since he had returned from foreign ground. Judging by the pounding in his head, it was a forced slumber.

His arms were strapped down to a hard, metal table, with what Jay could only guess were leather straps. He couldn't bend his legs and figured that his ankles were done up the same could actually see the IV that was connected to his arm, leading to someplace behind him where he couldn't see. He felt the blocks around his head, keeping it from thrashing around, but what really iced the cake for him, was the tube shove down his throat, breathing for him.

He had woken up a few times with respirator breathing for him, and those times probably are what stopped him from thrashing around too much. Or at least calmed him down minutely and stopped him from fighting with the respirator, knowing that it would only bring him trouble. Especially when he realized that he wasn't actually in a hospital.

What gave that piece of information away was the ceiling. High. Dark. The only lighting coming from a light bulb that hung, swaying in the air conditioned breeze. The other pieces of information came later. Like how there was no antiseptic smell, and the table beneath his metallic and rough beneath his lead like fingertips.

So he laid there, tube in his throat breathing for him, and himself floating, he was fairly certain he was drugged, leaving the edges of his mind foggy as he slowly drifted, waiting for something, anything to happen.

It could have been ten minutes, or ten days later when he felt a hand on his leg, startling him from his oblivion. His eyes shot open to see a figure looming over him, dressed in a blue hospital garment, blood soaking it.

He wasn't sure who the blood belonged to, however it looked old, and even in his confused, and mostly lethargic state, Jay didn't feel injured. The fact didn't make him feel any better about his situation though.

The man noticed him staring and brought the mask on his face down, smirking a malicious smirk. "The wallet that I pulled off you said you are a detective. I don't expect you to answer back, however Mr. Jay Halstead, what's about to happen to you is nothing personal. Rather, you are the pawn in a game." The man stopped talking, running his hand slowly up Jay's thigh, and stopping just short of his belt. "It is a shame really," he chided lifting his hand up and over the belt, and placing it lightly on Jay's arm. "Such a fine specimen as you. However, that is war. There are winners and there are losers. I assume you can guess which category you belong to."

The hand suddenly pulled away, disappearing beyond Jay's eyesight. Instead, Jay focused on the ceiling. He heard metal clang against metal, then a near silent sucking sound, and then a squirt. Jay once again tried to focus on the man, but was unsuccessful as he felt an alcohol pad being pushed into the crook of his elbow.

It was then that Jay realized that the long sleeved shirt he had been wearing earlier, was no longer on him, and now he was barebacked. Fortunately, his pant's were on. He accepted the little victory.

His breath caught in his throat as another puff of air was shoved into his lungs. He closed his eyes as he focused on trying not to die from a machine that typically kept most people alive. His gagging became painful as the doctor continued whatever he was doing. Jay could have sworn he felt bile in his stomach, slowly rising, when he heard the sound he had been waiting for.

The ridiculous amount of noise that suddenly rang loud and clear throughout the dingy place he was currently settled in instantaneous. It came from all around him as doors fell and windows shattered.

He didn't hear any gunshots, but his partner's voice was unmistakable, as she shouted louder than everybody else in the room. The room he was in lit up substantially as all the openings in the warehouse floor were shoved open. Jay witnessed his captor rise up slowly, dropping something back to the table and then his captor raised his hands far above his head. "My hands are raised, don't shoot." The voice sounded mechanical as SWAT and intelligence alike surrounded the man. Inching closer and closer. The man's voice was cool and calculating, and didn't make any sense at all to Jay.

As he slowly disappeared from Jay's sight, and sunk to his knees, Jay searched his narrow eyesight for anybody that he knew or recognized.

Suddenly she was beside him, and Jay felt his heart slow a little as he realized she was finally going to get him out of there. She didn't immediately reach to help him, focusing on the man that held him captive. Jay was ecstatic when he heard the man grunt, praying to god that Erin had kicked him or something.

Erin finally turned her attention to Jay as she smiled at his critical gaze. "You're alive. That's good." Jay rolled his eyes, hoping she would help him out of his current predicament. "Alright, alright, I know, I know. What's going to happen here is I am going to undo your arms and legs. However, because there is a tube down your throat, I will tase you if you attempt to touch it. So just stay still."

Jay wasn't entirely sure if she was joking or not as she reached for his left hand. After a moment of fiddling on her end, he was finally able to move his arm, helping his elevated heart rate clam further. Soon he was able to move all of his limbs as he continued to lie stock still on the table.

Soon there were paramedics in his sight, two he didn't recognize, as they very carefully checked his body for injuries. One of them, the taller guy, leaned over him and looked him in the eyes. "How you doing there detective?"

Jay felt obliged to roll his eyes again and the man laughed. "I see. I understand." The medic continued to smile as he studied the ventilator Jay was currently on. After a couple of seconds, the medic, smiled at him. "Fortunately,when they taught us how to slide these bad boys down the throat, they also trained us how to pull them back out. Its abnormal, sure, but I'm thinking you might like it out. So, can you blink your eyes twice for yes, and once for no?"

With two, quick, rapid fire blinks, and more and more people standing around the table the medics stood on either side of his head. "Alright detective, on the count of three-"

"Like, on three, or after three?" Adam piped in, smirking as the adrenaline surged through his veins, just happy that the man below him was alive. All eyes shot to him with mixed reactions of exasperation and confusion. Along with the clouded, obviously drugged, but alert eyes of Jay.

"Lethal Weapon, I dig it brother." Kevin nodded his head in approval, reaching a hand over the table, Adam meeting and giving his 'brother from another mother' a high five over Jay's limp body. He furrowed his eyebrows at the antics as Voight glared at the two.

The paramedics shrugged their shoulders and glanced back at Jay. "On three we want you to start coughing, after three, we will pull the tube out. How does that sound?"

Jay continued to stare at the medics, then remembering his previous instructions, he blinked, twice. "Then lets do this."

"One," The first medic shut the machine off. "two, three." On three, Jay painfully began to cough against the tube and after, the second medic pulled it out. The moment it left Jay's throat, and left Jay gagging, the first medic grabbed Jay's farther, left, side, and leaned him towards him, to the right. The group held a collective breath as the detective continued to cough.

After a long, tense, few seconds, Jay finally inhaled a deep breath of air, almost immediately calming his heaving lungs. The female, quieter and less vocal medic was running her hand up and down his back, trying to soothe his spasming lungs. Erin was clutching his hand in anticipation. "Detective, I think you might be okay for the time being." The medic chuckled as Jay looked up and over at the group, smirking lightly.

"Thanks." Jay croaked. The medics helped his sit up, and Jay didn't fight much. Even when they transferred him to the gurney, replacing the IV that sat in his elbow with another of their own.

It took a few hours for Jay to really be more aware of his surroundings, as he sat in the emergency room, Erin and Will chatting between each other, as they waited for the drug tests Will insisted be done with Jay's blood. In the time, Jay dozed and Erin conversed with Jay over what had happened.

"Doctor Halstead?" Jay's head shot up quizzically, as did Will's as a friendly, older nurse stuck her head into the curtain. When she realized it was safe to enter, she fit her whole, plump body through the curtains and shut them behind her. "The tox screens came back positive, your brother had a fair amount of a sedative in his system, and it could take a couple days for it to clear out entirely, however, besides that, he should be fine."

Will nodded, as did Jay as he slowly stood up from the bed. "So I can leave?"

With a quick nod of the head, Will turned to Jay. "You know exactly what I think about that. You were missing for two days. I think you need to stay overnight for observations."

"Will, I just want to go home, and sleep in my bed." Jay nearly whined, sitting up and rubbing at the back of his neck. Will eyed his brother's actions critically as Erin studied their interactions. The nurse carefully brushed back against the curtains, careful to keep out of the way. Jay crossed his arms over his chest as Will did the same.

Raising an eyebrow, Will looked to Erin. "He's gotta stay with someone for at least 24 hours. Any number of things can happen from an adrenaline dump to the drugs just not liking his system. Think you can watch him?" Will turned back to Jay as Erin seemed to wrestle the idea in her mind. Jay shot her a begging look, as he rubbed his chest carefully with the heel of his palm.

"Please Linds?" Jay croaked, tilting his head carefully in a way he knew Erin couldn't resist.

"Fine. But the first sign of trouble we come racing back, you understand?" Erin demanded as Will turned to the nurse, giving her a set of instructions before she walked out.

"Roger that." Jay responded, slumping backwards against the bed again as Will turned to Erin again. "I'm going to go over the signs and the little things you should be looking out for while the nurse gets his paperwork ready. You'll be out of here within the hour."

Jay smirked. "'Bout time."

* * *

Voight sat, his arms crossed across his chest, his feet propped atop the table, his chair leaning precariously on its back two legs. Antonio off to his side sat in a similar, relaxed form. Except his legs sat firmly on the ground. Across from them, sat 'The Doctor.' Or at least that's what the press was running with. After finding a body with a tube still down the young man's throat, and stitches covering his chest in a 'Y' pattern, the team had been called in when there had been no apparent reason he should have been dead.

Besides the autopsy, it looked as if he had just died. Two days after that, another body was found, same deal, just different gender, race, nationality, everything. Nothing about the victims connected except the way they were dying and the way they were found.

That night, Voight sent the team home early after running them dry the few days before that. That was the night Jay was kidnapped from right outside his apartment complex, and that was the night that the man in front of them, Jeremy Riley, made his first mistake.

DNA evidence left behind after Jay had given the man a bloody lip.

It had unfortunately taken the team quite a while to find an address and then another address where the good ol' doctor was doing his biddings, but when they found Jay, the team couldn't have been happier that he was in relatively good, not roughed up, shape.

Now here they sat, multiple hours later in the interrogation room, all waiting for someone to speak. It wasn't until Voight grew tired of his pose and brought his legs down, and the man leaned forwards in his cuffs, that Antonio spoke. "So, why'd you take them?"

"Is your friend still at the hospital?" It was the way that he had asked, his words as slimy as the gel that laid in his hair, sending Voight's thoughts racing.

"Why does it matter to you?" Voight asked, leaning forwards himself, placing his crossed elbows on the table.

"I mean, I suppose it doesn't really matter, Detective Jay Halstead is going to die, and there is nothing you can do about it." The man shrugged his shoulders, as if the news wasn't life or death for somebody working under Sergeant Voight.

Antonio's head shot up at the information as Voight's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

"War is a game, and there are winners and losers. The same goes for chemical warfare." The man stopped talking as Voight jumped out of his chair, sending it flying backwards.

"What did you do!"

"If you insist." The man paused while he tilted his head slightly to the right, squinting his eyes as he watched the men on the other side of the law. "I injected the detective with a concoction of my own, I've been perfecting it. I think I finally got it right with my last, eh, endeavor. Now, is the time for the cure. Jay was to be my fourth to be tested with the antidote, however, with him no longer being in any sort of care, and the antidote hidden somewhere-"

"What do you mean fourth? We only have two bodies?" Voight asked as the gears in Antonio's brain began to spin. His thoughts suddenly everywhere.

"One survived, with no lingering problems because he got the cure almost immediately after signs started to show." Riley shrugged, as if the information wasn't pertinent. "I sent him home to his family with a little extra incentive to keep quiet."

"Where is it? The antidote?" Antonio demanded, rising from his chair as quickly as Voight had, sending it sliding back against the wall. Dawson leaned forwards dangerously, his face in the doctors.

"Why would I tell you?" The man leaned back in his chair, apparently done with the conversation as he began to stare

Voight was out of the room in no time whatsoever, Antonio following him out into the hall. As Antonio studied the older man, Adam and Olinsky burst out of the mirrored room.

"This is not good."

"I know, I'm going to call 911 and Erin, get Jay back to the hospital. Alvin and Antonio, you two grill him. Find the antidote." With the last piece of instruction, Hank sprinted down the hallway, towards his office, phone dialing against his ear.

* * *

Jay stepped into Erin's apartment, his bag slung over his head and across his chest. He clutched tight at the strap, hoping that the fist against his chest would help the tight feeling that was slowly growing. Had been growing since the bust earlier in the day, but nothing like it was now. The longer he stood, the more steps he took, everytime he would take a breath, he would feel like his chest was slowly caving in on itself. He tried not to let the panic show in his eyes, but as Erin walked away, into her apartment, Jay stayed behind in the doorframe.

Erin's cell rang and she fished it from her pocket, throwing her bag on the counter, along with the pain meds she had brought in from her car. She figured the sore throat Jay was sporting was only going to get worse before it got better. She glanced at the phone screen, and recognizing Voight's photo as the caller ID, she answered. "What's up?"

"Are you with Jay?" Voight asked. His tone scared Erin. Erin, the kid who acted as her mother's personal medic, and Erin, the street kid who came to a cop for help when she knew it could kill her, was scared. It was the same tone of voice Voight would use when something bad happened, and he needed answers.

It was the tone he used when Camille had died, and he shouted at doctors and nurses for hours, just needing someone to help him find answers. It was the tone he had used when Deigo had been kidnapped and he was telling Antonio his way of solving the problem.

Now he was using it on her.

"Of course I'm with him. Why?" She asked, switching the phone to her other hand as she walked back out into the hallway leading from her kitchen to her door. He was right where she had left him, this time though, instead of the cool smile on his face, his eyes held an uncertainty and panic as he clutched at his chest. His other hand was gripping the door frame tight as he stumbled forward. She could hear the wheeze in his breaths, and the rattle in his chest as he fell to his knees.

"I'm sending an ambulance to your address, Jay's in trouble."

Erin almost missed the response when she surged forwards, helping Jay as he continued to fall. Moments later, he was lying on his back, gasping for oxygen as Erin sat above him, one hand holding the cell phone and the other hovering above his body.

If Jay had had some form of physical injury, at least she would have known what to do with her hand. She would have known where to place it over his struggling body, to staunch the flow of his blood. Every officer that crossed through the doors of every precinct in Chicago had received some degree of medical training. They had been trained that in any emergency, the key was to remain calm. But what they didn't tell you was that sometimes, whatever was imperative flies out the window.

Watching Jay squirm on the ground, his eyes clenched shut as his lips grew a shade bluer, Erin retracted her hand and laced it over her mouth as she tried to concentrate on Voight's Voights.

She heard him but she couldn't _hear _him. She heard the soft tones of his voice as he continued to rumble on, sending waves of emotional agony through her. His words meant nothing to her, but his tone meant everything.

She let out a choked 'Jay,' but her voice was unrecognizable. That much she could understand, and recognize, but Jay heard her, and Jay understood her, as his eyes fluttered open as he continued to writhe on the carpeting, as if the muscles that were trying to breathe in his chest, were also making his body move.

She dropped her hand holding the phone and let the phone crash to the ground. Instead, she reached out and took Jay's hands. WIth the motion, something in her clicked, as suddenly everything became crystal clear. The sound proof bubble she had just been in, suddenly popped as she brought both of their hands to rest on her chest, right above her heart. "Jay."

Her voice, for whatever reason, was still shaky and crumbling, so she cleared it and tried again. "Jay," much better. "you have to breathe one way or another. Just feel me OK. Feel me breathe and I want you to try and copy it. Don't panic, just breathe."

She knew that her breathing was also fast paced, so she made a conscious effort to slow it down as Jay locked eyes with hers. She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, but they continued to sit there and breathe.

Jay wasn't able, not once, to match her breathing, which scared her more than she was letting on to, but he tried. It wasn't until a hand waved in her eyesight that she realized that her vision had faded out again. She realized that Jay's eyes were no longer open and his chest was moving slowly and sluggishly, but when she recognized the paramedic to be Brett, she placed Jay's hands down, and grabbed her phone.

She took a couple steps back, watching the paramedics talking between each other as they pondered over what was causing it. The hooked him up to a heart monitor, before Peter Mills made the ultimate decision to slide a tube down his throat and attach it to an ambu bag, assisting Jay's breathing.

For the second time that day.

She turned to face the rest of her apartment as the medics continued to evaluate Jay, his eyelids showing no signs of waking. She dragged in a deep breathe and raised the phone to her ear. "Voight?"

"Erin, what's going on, how's Jay?" Voight's voice drifted through the phone and into her ears, leaving Erin biting back a few tears as she tried to to tune out the scene behind her.

"I don't know what's going on Voight. He was fine ten minutes ago, and now he's just-" She stopped as she heard her name being called. She turned to Brett who was stalling the movement of the stretcher as she grabbed Erin's attention.

"We're leaving, and I think it's in his best interest to have a familiar face at his side should he wake up." Brett stated soothingly.

Erin nodded as she shooed them along. Watching them race from her doorway, Erin turned back towards her living room. "I got- I have to go. Something's wrong and Jay," She paused one last time before continuing. "Jay can't breathe. I have to go. Meet me at the hospital."

She slammed her thumb against the end button, and rushed from her apartment, catching the ambulance before the elevator doors closed.

* * *

She paced outside the trauma room that Jay was in. Covered in doctors, and tubes, and apparently life support. Will had arrived some short time ago, almost immediately after Jay had been pushed upstairs, and had rushed in to help to the best of his ability. But apparently, there wasn't much that could be done.

She counted her steps, then would twist her body, and start pacing the other direction, fifteen each way. She could feel the eyes of the nurse at the nurses station following her, carefully and probably sympathetically. She probably assumed that she was a girlfriend, or fiancee, or something, which wasn't far off, but damn it, her partner was dying and there wasn't anything she could do.

Not from here anyway. Her head shot up, her short conversation with Voight before Jay had passed out playing through her mind. He had called the ambulance before he had talked to her, meaning that something had come to light during the interrogation of Riley.

Meaning she could do something from somewhere, anything to keep her thoughts away from Jay.

Jays door opened as footsteps came rushing up to her from down the hallway, definitely Voight. She looked up to the doctor exiting the room, only to come face to face with Will. Her face fell as she saw the wet cheeks and Wills desperate attempts to comfort himself. He looked over at her and shook his head. He grunted, clearing his throat as Voight walked up.

"It's, uh, it's not good. He's not breathing, his temperature, it's uh, higher than hell, his heart doesn't want to beat on it's own, his organs are freaking shutting down, nothing in his body is working right. I don't know what's going on." Will stopped, sucking his lips into his mouth as he looked to Voight and Erin. "What the hell happened to my brother? He was fine." His voice cracked on the final word, as another tear leaked from the side of his eye. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve but not before Erin saw it. That alone spoke volumes about what was going on in the room behind him.

"I don't know Will. I'm sorry, he was fine up until thirty minutes ago." She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his shoulders and back as she felt him trying to comfort herself. The two sat like that briefly before Erin pulled away and turned to Voight. "What happened?"

"He was poisoned, by the doctor and we gotta find the antidote."

"Doctor? A doctor helps people, he doesn't try and kill him. We only got him back for him to die?" Will asked, speaking the question's on both of their minds.

"I know, but there's still hope, apparently he wasn't the first to be poisoned, and someone out there has survived because they were given an antidote, and it worked. They're just not coming forwards about it because Riley threatened them in some way, shape, or form." Voight supplied the information as Erin nodded, glancing around the room as she spoke, trying her hardest to ignore the noises in the room behind her.

"We can set up a press conference, announcing that Riley's been caught, then we can explain Jays situation. If we found out who else was poisoned, maybe we can draw some blood, figure out what the antidote." Erin turned to Will, seeking confirmation.

"I mean, it's not entirely impossible. We can draw out some of the components. Depending if the poison is still in the system, we can compare that to what's in Jay's blood and figure out something to tide him over, no promises. Especially considering nothing popped up on the toxicology screens." Will advised. Going over the possibility in his head.

Erin nodded. "OK, Hank, we can have Will speak at the press conference, along with the commissioner, maybe they can find something out. How much time do you think we have Will?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know Erin, honestly, he should probably be dead already. We'll give him fluids, however, I get him twelve hours tops. He could go at anytime though."

Erin dropped her head to her chest, rubbing her tired eyelids with her fingers. The group took a minute to absorb the information before Erin looked up with a determined, steely look in her eyes. "Voight, we have 11 hours to grill Riley, and I don't care how it's done, but I want in." Voight nodded his head in a grim finality as Erin looked to Will. "Set up the press conference, do what you can from your end, we'll do what we can from ours."

Will nodded, then turned down the hallway, running either away from the issues that were situated right here in this hallway, or towards something that could save his brother. The man who Will had always looked up to, even when they had been separated by an ocean for those many years.

Voight turned to look Erin in the eyes. "What happens today, can result in somebody dead-"

"Its either Riley, or my best friend. Jay. What do you think I would choose?" Erin deadpanned as Voight shook his head.

"Fine, I'll have Olinsky drive over here with Riley. Olinsky can help with the press conference, we'll take Riley to the docks closer to his house." Hank suggested, reaching for the phone in his jacket pocket.

"Perfect."

* * *

"Hi there Doc. Comfy ride?" Erin sarcastically asked down at the lump of human being shoved into the trunk of the smallest car anybody on the unit had. The man, hands cuffed behind his back, duct tape wrapped tightly around his mouth, scowled at her maliciously. "What, are you not to pleased of being taken somewhere without having your consent first? I'm sure Jay - you know, my best friend, you remember him, you poisoned him - he didn't like it either asshole. Get out, now."

The man started shuffling around, causing as much noise and fight as he could before Voight came up beside Erin, reaching for, and grabbed the man's exposed neck. "Do as she says or I will start tearing you limb from limb."

Movement ceased as she reached forwards to take off the tape. As soon as the tape was pulled from Riley's lips, he spit. "I have rights."

"Not anymore you don't, welcome to Chicago." Erin frowned, offering a scowl of her own. Her's was filled with desperation and sadness whereas Riley's was filled with malice and fear.

The man quickly was out of the vehicle and dragged down to wooden dock, practically pulled across by Hank, as he continued to shove the man along until he was shoved to the very edge, looking down at the dark waters below him. The sun just setting giving the water another depth, a 'scary-shit' depth.

"Where's the antidote?" Erin deadpanned, leaning back against a wooden pillar which kept the dock standing. She glared down at the man who in turn glared up as Voight, who stood menacingly over the small man, chains wrapped around his hands.

Riley's nose twitched as he grew angrier. "You kill me, you'll never know."

"Jay dies either way, but if that happens, we're only going to make this more painful for you. So you're choice." Erin shrugged, as if this were a daily thing for her.

"_I _die either way. Where's my incentive, my promise." Erin raised an eyebrow and shrugged Voight on. Immediately Voight was wrapping the chains around the man's ankles, then reaching for the neck as Riley looked on, the fear growing in his eyes. "You're crazy. What are you doing?"

"Well, we're coaxing information from a dead man apparently. What are you doing?" Erin asked, pushing herself off the pillar as she slowly stepped closer and closer. She stopped right in front of the man. Bending down, she got right in the man's face. "This can go one of two ways. You tell me where the antidote is, you get to live the rest of your days in prison, or you don't, and you can tell the fish. You're choice."

Erin glanced quickly up at Voight, then with no sudden warning, she punched Riley, sending him teetering closer to the edge, and then his top half went over.

* * *

"I want to thank you all for gathering here tonight on such short notice." Olinsky glanced out at the rows and rows of reporters that stretched to the back of the conference room the hospital had let Will and Alvin utilize. "Now, my name is Alvin Olinsky, I am with the Chicago Police Department. I gathered you all here tonight, because earlier this evening, the CPD were able to apprehend known felon, Jeremy Riley, at about three o'clock. The man has been apprehended and will be charged with the deaths of Jesse Mars, the man found six days ago, dead, along with Carly Black, who was also found dead four days ago." Alvin brushed back his gelled hair, and rubbed his shaven jaw. The dress clothes that he had borrowed feeling a little snug and uncomfortable. However, the goal was to make him look different, not like Alvin Olinsky.

"Tonight, here with me, I have Will Halstead, doctor, and brother to the detective kidnapped two days ago. Detective Jay Halstead has been found, however, earlier this evening, it came to light that Detective Halstead was injected with a toxic substance. Doctor Halstead will take it from here." Alvin stepped away from the podium, allowing Will to step forwards, wiping his sweaty palms down his pristine white doctors coat. He grabbed both sides of the podium with his hands, then looked out at the audience.

Finally he crossed his arms, and spoke. "Jay, my brother, is the best person I know. Yet, some person has kidnapped him, poisoned him, and is now leaving him to die. I've witnessed it before. Watching as someone slowly dies, withering away until there is nothing left. That's not what I wanted of my brother, not how I want to remember him. My brother, Jay, he's a soldier, a hero, and this man - this monster - has reduced him to life support, and it's the most cowardly thing I have ever seen in my life." Wil reached up quickly, wiping away at his eyes as he felt them watering again. "I've had to see him, Jay, have his heart restarted twice in the last hour, and we are doing everything we can for him. But it's not enough."

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he looked away and looked back at Alvin, shaking his head. He wiped away at his eyes, once again as he turned back to the group in front of him. "There is only one thing that can save him, and somebody in Chicago has it. This man, Riley, he kidnapped one other person, and he poisoned you, then he saved your life. And I am begging you to come forwards, so we can draw some blood, because we need to save my brother."

He stopped, watching as a journalist in the front row wiped at her eyes. He realized, that despite his best efforts he was crying. Tears leaked down his face and into his pale blue doctors scrub shirt as he looked around. "I'm giving you, who ever you are, the chance to be a hero, because Jay needs one right now. And, uh, I need one. Because he's my brother and I can't lose him too." Suddenly Will was enraged as he turned to face Alvin.

"God damn it! Who the hell is this really helping?" Stepping down from the podium, Will rushed from the room, Alvin following closely behind.

Leaving the room silent.

* * *

"Hey, hey, hey. Will, you OK?" Alvin asked, grabbing onto the young doctors arm, turning the blonde towards him. Alvin quickly dropped his arm as Will took a step back, leaning his back against the white wall. The pair remained silent as Will slid down the structure, until his knees were keeping him propped up, his elbows resting on them as he placed his head in his hands.

"I haven't slept in days. And I'm tired, and I'm a mess, and I don't know why I agreed to do this, and-"

"I get it, you're not OK. But you did the thing that could help him most." Alvin stopped as he circled around Will, then slid down the wall right next to him, placing a hand on his back. "But something else you have to remember, Jay is one of the strongest people I know too. He's not going to give up without one hell of a fight. You remember that, OK?"

Will nodded into his knees as Alvin heard the sounds of quiet sobbing. Slowly, tears began to drip onto the linoleum, as Will's body shook with the tremors of the sobs. "I-I'm just not ready to lose him yet." Will cried into his knees.

"Me neither kid, me ne-" Suddenly the doors to the auditorium burst open, a lady that Alvin recognized as a reporter rushed out, her eyes searching for something until she spotted the two, a cell phone in her hands.

"Hey, I have a phone call from a Ryan Cawl. He says he's your guy."

* * *

"The chains saved your life this time, next time they won't." Erin threatened, not showing any signs of helping the man who was practically hanging off the dock. "Now you tell me where the antidote is, or I will sink you myself."

The venom dripped from her words, her eyes would have been filled with fire had this been a cartoon, and with one last feeble attempt, the doctor stopped moving and looked up at her. "It doesn't matter, he's probably dead anyway. Just pull me up, please." Erin looked up at Voight, who nodded slightly as he pulled the 'good doctor' up.

"It's hidden in a compartment in my shoe. My left one." The man finally gasped, as he sat on his knees, his arms laying in between them, his head hanging as he sucked in as many breaths as he could. With Erin and Voight, he wasn't sure how many more he had left.

"Your fucking kidding me?" Erin asked, as she ripped his shoe off. Immediately she was able to spin the bottom of the heel around, and revealed a small vial filled with a yellow, liquidy substance. Erin's heart jumped to her throat as she pocketed the vial carefully. "I think we got it."

* * *

"So what symptoms are we looking at?" Erin asked to the doctor in the backseat, in posture rigid and his hands cuffed in front of him.

"It's a fast acting poison. It will affect the organs within hours. Starting with little things, like kidneys, liver, spleen. Then it moves on to big fish. Lungs, heart, brain. Somewhere in there he loses his sight, I haven't figured out why though, however, he has to be conscious for that particular breakthrough." The man almost seemed to be bragging, but Erin ignored the malicious tone and turned to Voight, who was wheeling the vehicle like a mad man.

"It's already gotten to the lungs." Erin looked into the rearview mirror and nearly broke it off when she saw the smiling man in the backseat. "What the fuck are you smiling about?" She simmered, turning to face the back.

"I just don't believe he's going to be the same. If the organ damage doesn't get to him, the brain damage will. But you know, I am almost one hundred percent certain he's dead by now." the doctor turned to face her. "I think the real miracle at hand here is the fact that it's not contagious, or a lot of people would be sick."

Erin turned to face the front as the hospital pulled into view. As the vehicle stopped in front of the emergency entrance, Erin unbuckled and turned to face Jeremy Riley. She did nothing more than pat his cheek lightly, before running from the vehicle and through the ER entrance. "What the hell was that?" Riley asked as Voight reached over to close the doors. Voight turned around and took his turn staring at the man.

"You're lucky that Jay Halstead is the best man with the greatest morals on our team, or else you would be dead right now." Thats all he said, no emotions hidden in his voice or outwardly showing as he gunned the vehicle again, sending the man in the backseat sprawling as they made their way back to the precinct.

* * *

"Erin!" Erin stopped running towards Jay's room as she spotted Will at the end of the hallway, his eyes swollen. He noticed her hesitation and he shook his head. "He's not dead, but we couldn't alienate the antidote, and unless you have it-"

"I have it." Erin smiled, for the first time in hours as she pulled the vial from her pocket.

Will stopped himself, his chest heaving as he rushed forwards to grab it. He was smiling too, but the edges of his mouth dropped the moment he felt it in his hands. "What?" Erin demanded.

"It could be a fake. It could be piss in a vial and I -he - doesn't have the time to run the tests." Will realized as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Will, I swear to god, it's the _only_ chance Jay has at surviving. It's either it is, or it isn't. Would you rather say you tried, or that you just let him die?" Erin grabbed Will's hand, squeezing it carefully around the vial. "I need him, so this has to be it."

Will nodded, and suddenly the jump in his step was back. He turned and rushed down the hallway, Erin at his heels. He ran into the room, grabbing a syringe from the cart and sucking some out of the vial, all before he stopped besides Jays IV port.

Erin herself forgot to look at Jay, not wanting to see the tubes down his throat, and the leads leading to his heart, and the leads attached to his head, all keeping him alive and showing it lazily on the screens that sat above his bed stand. Jay was topless, some hospital scrubs covering his bottom half. Apparently it was a precaution, in case they had to revive him again.

Will leaned down, the syringe in the IV port, as he whispered into his brother's ear. "You fight this. You understand. I know you can hear me, because you're not dead yet, but you fight this." Then he plunged the liquid into the IV, and fell into the chair behind him. He was watching the screens intently, and showed no outward sign of celebration as Erin cleared her throat.

"It's not going to be immediate. Either he dies or he doesn't."' Will sighed.

Erin followed suit, sitting in the chair behind her. "Now we wait."

"Now we wait."

* * *

He didn't die that day, or the day after, or even the day after that. He didn't die, but he wasn't the same either.

He woke up on the third day in the hospital. Five days after the end of his life had begun.

His brain was pretty much the only organ that didn't give up that day.

His heart, lungs, kidneys, they gave up. Doctors were blunt from the moment he had was clear minded and woken up. A heart transplant in the next five years would be necessary, but that would only add a couple more years to his shortened life expectancy. He would likely be attached to oxygen for the rest of his life, carting along a container with him while he wheeled around in a wheelchair. Sure he could walk, but it would only exert him. Dialysis twice a week for the rest of his life, until his kidneys got worse, which they would. His right was only functioning half as well as his left, and his left wasn't functioning very well either. Jay was on a list for a kidney transplant, but once again, it would only prolong the inevitable for so long.

They gave him ten years maximum.

After hearing the news, Jay had asked to be alone for a bit, and his wish was respected. Most people left the hospital, leaving Erin to sit outside his door, Will in a chair across the hallway. They stared at each other as the heard the silent, choked sobs coming from the other side of the door. The broken sound brought tears to Erin's eyes and infuriated Will to no end. Soon he was pacing, and the hour continued to slip by.

It was only when a nurse walked into his room that Will and Erin snuck in as well, watching Jay stare right at them without not actually seeing them.

Then there was the issue of his eyesight. The moment he had woken up, everyone knew something was wrong when all he could see was little bits of light every so often. Doctors saw nothing on the scans that would explain why he was blind. They assumed it was permanent.

"I know you're in here." He muttered from his spot, buried in the pillows. "I may be blind but I'm not deaf."

"Right, forgot you're Dare Devil." Will joked carefully, walking up to his brothers side as the nurse finished up.

"Yea, but he lived a full life." Jay dead panned. His eyes were unfocused, red, and puffy, but his lip curled slightly at the non joke. "I don't know what to tell you guys,"

"You don't have to tell us anything Jay." Erin piped up, as she circled around to stand on the other side of Jay. "Just promise us you're not giving up?"

"I thought you said I didn't have to say anything?" Jay asked, raising a lazy eyebrow as he turned his head to point in her direction.

"Fine." Erin shrugged, placing both her hands on either sides of his face, relishing the way Jay leaned into the touch. They both took the simple solace that he was there, and that she was there. Everything about the interaction was comforting to them.

Will watched the interaction with curiousity, ever since he had gotten back, he knew that these two were close. He just didn't know how close. When he had left, Jay was ready to knock on doors to lay in bed with a lady, and now here he was.

Dying, but so obviously in love.

They kissed then, a simple, slow kiss. Another cherishing gesture. They stopped when Jay began to cough, the cannula under his nose helping to ease the lack of oxygen, but Erin's face carried a mixture of sadness.

He would never be the same.

* * *

Director of the Chicago Hospital, Will Halstead, kissed his wife on the back of the head, before he rolled out of bed, every muscle in his body aching and grieving as he purposely avoided his phones sitting on the nightstands, silently after he had turned them off the night before. Knowing what all of them would say.

He continued with his morning routine, rousing his daughters from sleep so they could get ready to go to school, a 3rd grader and a kindergartner so ignorantly unaware of what was going on in his life.

He walked out to grab the mail in his pajamas, not bothering to change, knowing he wasn't needed to come in today. He dropped it all on the table in the kitchen after he came back into the room, as he recognized the smiling face that covered the front page of the Newspaper. "_Hero dies after long fight.' _He knew what the rest would say, but he wasn't ready to read it.

He cooked breakfast for his girls and then sent them away on the bus as his wife carried herself gracefully down the stairs, pregnant with his third child, all signs pointing to it being a boy. She saw the newspaper, and without any words, embraced her husband as they stood stoically in the kitchen.

"We knew it was coming." Was all Will said as his wife nodded and patted his back before she walked back away.

Will finally sat down at the table and read the article, tears pooling in his eyes.

_September 15th, 2022 - Jay Halstead, former Detective with the Chicago Police Department, passed away yesterday at the age of 37, after an infection that led to heart failure. He left the force seven years ago after he was considered medically unfit for duty. The Detective leaves behind his wife of seven years, Erin Lindsay-Halstead, his young son, Thomas Halstead, and his brother, Will Halstead. He is preceded in death by his mother and father. _

_After the former soldier and detective left the force, he started and ran a charity that helped victims of senseless crimes and those in need pay for the medical bills for their procedures. He helped over 1,000 families pay off medical bills and helped over 100 people receive new organs. Even offering up a heart that was his to a young child who would die otherwise. _

_He himself had received a new heart and kidney by the time of his death, and had always been considered for a cornea transplant, but had remained blind to the end of his days. _

_He always credited his wife, brother, and family and friends for helping him when he was at his lowest, but it was his friends and family who said that he helped them. _

"_He was always there when we needed someone to talk to, even if he was in pain or just barely was able to get up that morning. Whenever we needed him, we would call him, and we would get him. We're going to miss him." Trudy Platt, an old sergeant of the detective had to say of the detective. "It's a tragedy that we all knew was coming."_

_He was given ten years to live, but only made it to seven, but he made the best of those seven. Lived like he was dying._

"_When that fire burns down your house, build a new one." - Jay Halstead_

_Our thoughts and prayers are with his family in this tragic time._

* * *

_**FIN**_

* * *

**A/N: All I have to say about this one is that they can't all be happy can they? Seriously though, I would have warned you all, but you would have known. However, I think I ended it in a way that no one saw coming. **

**I promise you, this won't happen often, however, remember that it can happen, so be on the watch out. Let me know what you thought as a review and I'll be sure to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **

**Next up - E is for Extreme Heat**


	5. E is for Extreme Heat

**A/N I really can't even begin to apologize for the delay in chapters...but I honestly had absolute zero motivation as well as writers block out the ass.**

**Hope you like it.**

* * *

"You're full of yourself." Jay laughed from the driver's seat, sparing a glance at his passenger. The young detective beside him was in a good mood, with his dark blue polo and khaki pants. His beard was unshaven however, kept neat just below his chin, and his eyes sparkled in mischief, as they had from the moment Adam Ruzek had bounded up the stairs and into Intelligence that morning.

"Yea, you want to know who else was full of me last night?" Adam chirped, laughing himself as he looked out the window at the slow going traffic.

The two were sent out to question a man who may or may not (most of Intelligence was leaning towards 'not.' The man only crossed the database they were using by a stroke of luck and most likely in error,) be connected to a pawn shop robbery.

It had happened early Tuesday morning. A pawn shop was robbed of nearly five grand in jewelry and other odd accessories. The shop owner, being a close friend of the police commissioner, demanded the best team be put on the case. So names were drawn out of a metaphorical hat and Intelligence just happened to not be busy, luckily enough. The team was almost ninety nine percent certain they knew who did it, however, lack of sufficient evidence to get a warrant, left the team at a stand still. Antonio and Olinsky were watching the guy. Erin and Mouse were digging through every database and CI they knew to figure out something (which led to the man Jay and Adam were about to 'interview') and Voight and Atwater branching out separately, both men having connections to the inner city.

The man they were about to go meet, Dave Matthews, was an old cell mate of the man they believed committed the crime itself, Jeffrey Mcloughlin. Because the records were expunged, Jay and Adam had no idea what landed Dave in prison for over a year and a half, which was making for an interesting afternoon voyage to Dave's workplace, a factory out on the rims of the city, right on the docks.

"I swear to god, Ruzek, if you say my mom, or Kim, I'm going to punch you." Jay laughed along, however, a serious undertone lining his words.

"Well excuse me for trying to make a joke." Adam threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender, and twitched in his seat a little bit more.

"Considering my mother is dead and I don't want to hear about your sex life…" Jay let the sentence flutter away at the reddening cheeks, as Adam looked away in shame. The first bit of information news to him.

"I'm sorry man, I didn't know." Adam muttered as he looked out the window, the tips of his ears red.

"Don't worry about it, it's just not information I like to tell people. You know how it is." The last statement ended the conversation, Adam knowing exactly how it was. Family matters were private matters.

The next minutes passed by quietly, even the bustle outside of the car muffled by the locked compartment. Horns were hardly heard and shouts were stifled.

Jay pulled into the lot for the factory, rolling down his window, the heat almost suffocating. Both the detectives flashing their badges to the security man that sat in the booth to allow access to the lot. "Officers, what can I do for you all today?"

"We're here to speak to an employee here, he said to meet him here around 12?" Jay answered, clearing his throat as he finished.

"Alright, head on in." The security was obviously not concerned about the people they let in, but Jay wasn't keen to argue about the circumstances as he waited for the gate arm to lift and drove in.

"We didn't call anybody, Jay." Ruzek grinned, knowing full well that had they called, Dave probably would have disappeared, and the smallest lead they had, would be gone in a poof of smoke.

"What are you talking about, Adam?" Jay smirked, as he continued to scourge the parking lot, trying to find a decent space to park in.

He found a parking space relatively close to the the doors, and the detectives made their way into the building, looking for the man in the mugshot.

Kinda bald, larger than both the detectives put together, yellowed teeth, brown eyes. Nothing special about the man.

They caught sight of him as he walked into a backroom, his earmuffs blocking out the noises of the surrounding machinery, noises that blocked out any noises they tried making to catch the man's attention. They walked back and entered the room themselves, only receiving a few glances from the other factory workers.

Entering the room they were immediately met with a dimly lit staircase that screamed 'BAD IDEA' but the detectives shrugged it off and walked upwards anyways. At the top, the were met with another door that screamed, in giant red letter 'ROOF ACCESS.'

"Did we go through the wrong door?" Adam asked, a breathy laugh on his lips, as he reached for the handle.

"I don't know, but something about this is wrong. Did he know we were coming?" Jay asked, placing his hand on his gun holster out of second nature as he blocked Adam's hand.

"According to security, yes. They might have let him know?" Adam watched Jay spin the information in his head and then shake it.

"No, that's too much work for the security guy. He would have had to have actually got up and called someone." Jay didn't mean to be rude but it's how it rolled off his tongue.

"He's probably just up here taking a smoke. What's the worst that could happen?" Adam asked, half joking as he swatted Jay's hand away and swung the door open.

The heat from the 100 degree day along with the humidity from the lakes, left Jay wishing he could be in shorts, and maybe no shirt. Shirtless seemed like a good idea right around then. The heat immediately enswathed the men as they stepped onto the roof.

They could only see half of the roof from their view, and even then, parts of the roof were blocked by air conditioning units and spires sticking out of the roof. The pair didn't see anything, and shrugged, "Go check where we can't see, I'll check the other half of the roof."

"Roger that," Ruzek responded, jogging lightly to the first spire. Jay watched him for a few seconds more, before turning to the other half of the roof. It was almost exactly the same as the side Ruzek was searching, except there were less spires to look behind, which suited Jay just fine.

He had just finished searching number four of at least ten.

That was all he could remember.

O-(the line thingy broke)-O

He heard noises when he resurfaced to consciousness, but his resurface was slow. Very slow. He could feel that he was being restrained, and he could feel just how extremely hot he felt..

The noises were muffled, almost like he was underwater and everything was being garbled.

It took a few minutes before he could finally start to be able to make out syllables, and then shortly after, words. He kept his eyes closed for a few minutes more, the pounding in his head extreme. "-ay, I swear to god, I'm going to break out of these cuffs just to smack you if you don't wake up."

Ruzek.

All Jay could manage in response was a mixture between a groan and a moan, and as quiet as it was, it still shut Adam up. "Jay. Hey man, you with me?"

"I guess." Jay moaned again, this time, words flowing from his mouth as he lifted his head off his chest and realized that he was sitting straight up with his arms handcuffed behind him. Jay knew immediately that he was handcuffed to one of the smaller spires, making moving completely impossible.

"What happened?" Jay asked as he looked ahead of him, to Adam who was handcuffed about ten feet in front of him.

"Matthews knew we were on to him, apparently spotted us the moment we walked into the building. He must have gotten the jump on you judging the blood coating your head-" Jay cocked his head as he finally understood the source of the headache. "-and he didn't give me a choice. Said he would shoot you if I didn't throw him the gun and handcuffs. Made me cuff one arm and he cuffed the other." Adam stopped as Jay started to look around.

"Sorry." Jay muttered as he leaned his head back against the hot metal, the sun shining directly down on the two. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long, less than an hour."

"Did he take our cell phones?" Jay asked, already knowing the answer, not seeing the bump in his pocket to prove otherwise.

"Yea, he took our car too, and our badges, and our guns." Adam responded, watching Jay process the information. "You Okay?"

Jay looked back to Adam, "Yea, my head is killing me though."

"Understandably enough. I guess we wait now?"

"Doesn't appear like we have been given much of a choice." Jay responded, leaning back again and closing his eyes, trying to block out the sun and the uncomfortable heat that accompanies it.

"Guess not."

"How long do you think it's been?" Adam asked, having remained relatively quiet over the last few hours, the sun slowly starting to slip away, but the heat still in the air. Jay lifted his head lazily off the spire as he looked over at Ruzek, squinting his eyes nearly shut. The sun burn on Ruzeks face was extremely evident, and Jay assumed his looked much of the same.

"I'm not sure." Jay responded, his brain not quite keeping up with Jay's train of thought at this point. His brain was basically fried, having sat out in the sun all afternoon, and the sun, as its setting, was shining right in his face. He was in the middle of a pretty rough day.

"I'm thinking a while, probably closer to seven hours, but no less than five." Adam suggested, watching Jay carefully. Adam deduced earlier on that Jay had a concussion, and Adam kept catching him nodding off, and every so often, Adam would make some sort of ruckus to wake him up, but with night coming, and the two still handcuffed to the roof, it wasn't looking to good for them.

"Think the team notices we're missing?"

Jay cracked open an eyelid, "I sure hope so."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, neither man really wanting to exert themselves to talk to the other, but Adam was Adam. Jay didn't think he knew how not to talk. "Why is it always you?"

Jay picked his head up again and looked at Adam with a closed mouthed smirk. "What?" The single word was full of confusion as Ruzek grinned over at Jay.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Ruzek supplied unhelpfully, purposely trying to get a rise out of the other detective. When Jay didn't offer anything other than a raised eyebrow as a response, Ruzek continued on. "This literally only happened to us because you were here."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but Jay rolled his eyes painfully as he laid his head back down on the spire. Purposely not looking at the man. "Funny, you're going to try to blame this all on me when I was the one who didn't think coming up here was a good idea. What was it you said, smoking a cigarette?"

"You should have just told security the truth." Adam supplied.

"Not like it would have made a difference. Security here is shady anyways. No way we can expect a rescue from them." Jay murmured.

"All I'm saying is that next time, you're on your own." Adam once again quipped, knowing the conversation was ending as Jay slowly fell back asleep, the only thing they could do up here.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Adam didn't let himself rest until about an hour after the sun fell. It was still uncomfortably hot, and his pants were soiled after he realized there was no way he was going to be unhandcuffed in time to use the bathroom, fortunately his stomach was empty, and his bladder was too. He fell asleep after Jay began to snore across the way from him.

Adam knew that the concussion was part of the problem, but feeling the effects of dehydration already, and even some symptoms of heat exhaustion himself, Jay must have been worse off than he was letting on. His face, despite the red features that the sun had graciously burnt him with, he was actually pale. He seemed confused sometimes throughout the afternoon, at one point, he had even asked Ruzek what had happened again, but he quickly remembered and the two continued on in silence.

Jay's arms and face were covered in sweat and his shirt led Ruzek to believe he was sweating all over. Adam didn't blame him though. Considering he was in the same damn boat.

At that point though, with Jay sleeping across from him, and nothing Adam could do otherwise, he fell asleep.

Or at least he tried to. It didn't come as easily as it seemed to be coming for Jay and Adam could list off many reasons why that would be so.

But none of that mattered. Adam knew, without a doubt in his mind, that had he been in his own bed, with Kim cuddled up in his arms, that he'd be sleeping just fine right now. If not, his hands would be all over her. In her hair, in her hands, sliding up and down her legs. Here, he couldn't even move his arms.

Thinking about it suddenly have him doubts. What if they didn't find them in time? This was a Chicago summer, how long do you have to be handcuffed to a roof until you're nothing more than decomposed flesh and bird food? The thought sickened him. He had seen some sick things with Intelligence and here he was now.

He didn't notice the snores in front on him had stopped until Jays rough voice called out to him. "I know you're not asleep, you ok?"

Adam winced at how raspy it was as he opened his eyes and looked over at Jay, the light from the door near the stairway illuminating his face enough so he wasn't just looking at shadows. "Define ok?"

Jay chuckled a harsh chuckle, "Fair enough. What's on your mind?"

The question caught Ruzek off guard as he looked carefully, critically, at Jay. "I just want to be home."

Jay thought about the words for a few minutes, twirling the consonants and the vowels around and around in his head. Adam thought he had fallen asleep again and was just about to join him when Jay began to speak.

"Before I left for Afghanistan, my mom was a wreck. She knew how it was over there and she knew that there was a possibility that I wasn't going to come back home. So the night before I was supposed to get on the airplane which would fly me away to a war zone, she snuck into my room and she woke me up and she told me-" Adam shot his eyes up to Jay, who was sucking on his bottom lip, obviously very lost in the moment. Adam suddenly regretted every 'yo mama' joke he had ever made at Jay's expense as the man laid his head back down against the spire. "She told me that it didn't matter how far away I was, that home would always be with me. It was really corny but she went on to say she loved me and that she was proud of me. That was the last time I saw her healthy."

Adam didn't know how to respond, so he didn't.

O-/-O

Adam woke up to the sun right on top of him, clearly it was early afternoon, with the sun shining on his face instead of Jays. His mouth was dry, his body just hurt, and it felt stiff.

Adam didn't immediately think of the other man on the roof. Knowing that the last few times he had woken up this morning, that Jay was circling the drain. But every time Jay went back to sleep, Adam would join him, but Jay couldn't handle the sun much longer.

Looking across the roof, towards his partners still form, Ruzek was immediately suspect to something being wrong. Worse than all the other times this morning. Jay's head was down, and his shirt was dry despite the obnoxious heat. His face was flustered, and red, not just from the sun burn. There was a small pile of puke beside him, but it hardly looked like he had moved all night.

"Jay?" Adam asked, trying to catch the attention of his cohort. When that didn't work, he yelled a little louder. This time, Jay's eyes popped open, however his head remained down.

"Adam?" Jay whispered, the lack of water in his body causing his throat and mouth to be parched.

"Yea, it's me. You OK?"

Jay lifted his head up, or at least tried to as his head fell back to his chest, where his chest lazily rose and fell. "My head's pounding like the shit man. What happened?"

"We went to interview Dave Matthews. Remember? We got stuck up here?" Adam asked, his tone joking but his eyes were serious as Jays closed again.

Jay remained silent, so much so that Adam thought he was unconscious again, until he spoke, breathily as he slowly descended into oblivion. "Who? Where are we?"

"Jay, look at me, you can't go to sleep, I think there's something wrong with you."

"I can't…" Just like that, Jay was unconscious again, and no amount of yelling on Ruzek's part would rouse him.

O-/-O

Ruzek must have fell asleep again, startling awake as the sun was lower in the sky, shining directly at Jay's face. His chest was labored, his face was scrunched up in pain, and he must have thrown up again, because there was another pile besides his outstretched legs.

But he was silent, so that wasn't what had startled him awake.

It was the sirens. He heard them, extremely close too, like they were beneath him almost. Adam also heard shouting and within minutes, he heard footsteps running up the stairs and then the door was slammed open, none of which he could see, his back facing the wrong direction.

"Jay!" Erin's shrill voice filtered through in the open space first. "Adam?" It was like a chorus of angels as he heard the rest of Intelligence, as they filtered onto the roof.

Adam realized he was too weak to do much but croak, but it was enough as the team must have caught sight of them.

Erin sprinted into Adam's view, but fell to her knees besides Jay, already reaching to undo his handcuffs as Adam felt someone do the same to him.

He heard and felt the medics on him. He heard words like dehydration, and heat exhaustion. He even heard a mention of heat stroke before he was laid down flat on the ground, and passed out again.

O-/-O

Erin was sitting at Jay's bedside, watching as his chest went up and down, slowly, but steadier than what it had been the day before. When it almost wasn't moving. At all.

She stared steadily at the white bandage that was on his forehead from where Matthews had hit him with a wrench. The doctors were happy it didn't cause any damage to the brain. Nope, just extremely dehydrated and a heat stroke that he almost didn't come back from.

Ruzek was in the other bed on the other side of the room, closer to the window. Burgess was lying in the bed with him, Adam having woken up a few times and conversing with the team, even going as far as to make a few jokes. Ruzek was apparently relatively lucky, having been dehydrated, which was fixable, and a case of heat exhaustion and exposure. Both the men's faces were already peeling from the burns and Jay's arms were also peeling ferociously as well.

But Jay hadn't woken up yet.

Doctors said it was probably the concussion, that he needed the sleep, and Erin accepted that. What she was finding hard to accept that they had ended up cutting it really close.

The team noticed that the pair weren't back around five the day that they got caught up there, and they sent a squad car to check the location, but after not finding Jay's car and the security having been a little sketchy, the team realized something was going on. They worked through the night, and most of the morning to find Matthews, and they did find him.

With his old cellmate, Jeffrey McLoughlin. They arrested them both, and it had taken most of the afternoon to find out where Jay and Adam were.

At that point, Erin was frantic with worry, and the moment she spotted Jay on the roof, his head on his chest and his chest hardly moving, she had wanted to cry.

And she did later on, tears of relief when she learned that he would be OK.

Now, here she sat, staring at Jay, who was still covered in cooling blankets, his temperature still over 101 fahrenheit. The doctors had said that his internal cooling system had broken, and it sure looked like it.

She continued sitting by his bedside, Intelligence folks dropping by every so often to check up on them, and then leaving. Will had joined her at Jay's bedside, but had fallen asleep quickly, the shift he had just worked and the worrying over his brother had taken its toll.

It was nearing eight pm when Jay began to stir, his eyes glaring up at Erin casually. Startling her. It was like one moment he was asleep, and the next he was awake.

She smiled over at him, joy at his consciousness almost overwhelming her. "Hey there sleepy."

He opened his mouth, but coughed a dry cough. Erin reached to the bedside table and grabbed the cup of water that sat there. Placing the straw that lazily swirled around in the cup in between Jay's lips, she quickly pulled it away as he began to chug the contents on the glass. "Easy there red, little at a time."

He rolled his eyes but slowed his sips. Eventually, he was done and she placed the cup back on the table. He closed his eyes for a short second, and in that second, Erin was terrified that she had lost him again. "What's the last thing you remember?"

His eyes popped open again, and settled on her face. Smiling lightly he went to lift his top half up but winced at the tightness of his skin and just the overall soreness of his shoulders. Instead he settled for lightly rolling towards her. She leaned forward and placed a hand delicately on his face weary of the burns. "I remember bits and pieces. Uh, investigation into pawn shop robbery. I'm not sure name wise or how I ended up on a roof. I remember bits of the roof but mainly just being tired, hot, and feeling like shit."

His voice was rough from disuse but he relished in the light touches from her delicate fingertips. The coolness of her palm a nice contrast to the heat that he still felt. "What's the injury run down?"

"Heatstroke, exposure, malnutrition, dehydration. Moderate to severe concussion." Erin stopped with a smirk. "Adam's fine. Going home tomorrow. Says he's never going anywhere with you again, I told him that's just fine because I wasn't letting you leave my sights for a while."

"He told me some-" Jays yawn caught her by surprise and she winced as the burnt skin on his face was stretched.

"Don't worry about it. I'll let the doctors know you're awake so they can do some testing." Erin went to get up but was stopped by his hand surprisingly gripping her hand tightly.

"I was really afraid I wasn't going to see you again." Jay shrugged painfully. "Neither of us thought we were getting off that roof."

Erin leaned back down, bringing her face within an inch of his. "I would've gone through hell and highwater to find you. Don't forget that." She brought her face closer still and let her lips rest against his lips, and then his forehead. "I will always find you and I will always bring you home."

"I love you Erin Lindsay."

"I love you too."

"I hate you both. Shut up so I can get some sleep." Ruzeks sleep riddled voice rang out. An underlying hint of relief in his tone.

Jay and Erin smiled at each other. Deciding rather to sit in silence so long as they were together.

O-/-O

**PS-reviews help my motivation. Like red bull on finals week.**


	6. F is for 'Fine'

**You don't even want to know why this took so long-in short, my English teachers and asshole, and I am lazy.**

**So sorry.**

* * *

**Jays P.O.V.**

I did not look good. That much could be said as fact when I looked in the mirror at four AM Tuesday morning. If the bruising underneath my eyes, white skin and fatigued face weren't an indicator, then the scratchy voice, shaking hands and way past dead and unfocused eyes definitely sealed the deal. No way Lindsay would let me work today.

Luckily for me, I was already at work. Not so lucky for me, I'd been here the past three days. Since Friday. No, no wait. That's four. Four days. Four days without any sleep trying to catch the man responsible for murdering three kids in an alley behind their school. After he raped them.

The case was so much like Ben Corsons that a couple times I found myself wondering why his picture wasn't up on the whiteboard.

Which, if that was any testament to how badly I needed sleep, meant I was in trouble. I've never gone this long before without any of it. No cat naps. Nothing. Although there was those fifteen minutes I was unconscious from the car accident. Wouldn't count that as sleep, especially considering how much it freaked Antonio out when I wouldn't wake up.

So that accident is what I've used to quietly play off the shaky hands and colorless skin, as well as the full body soreness and fatigue.

See the problem with staying at the precinct for four days is simple- there are no beds. No real place to rest. At first I used this as an excuse not to sleep, telling myself that when I finally get rest I'd rather get it in a bed, not a locker room.

Needless to say, now, I'm too scared to take five minutes to rest, because I might wake up in next week. Which would be hard to explain to the team, who thinks I've just been downstairs with mouse (he has multiple pillows) and mouse thinks I've just been zonked out on my desk.

I've been neither, instead working on whatever angles I can to try and get a lead while intermittently hissing as I try to wrap my ribs by myself.

"_Stupid Prius."_ I mutter as I stare at the nasty discoloration that spreads across my chest, more particularly vivid where the seat belt was and the two white epicenter on my lower abdomen and chest where the vest stopped a couple bullets.

Yeah, that was on raid number two.

See after we chased down three of Tran's buddy and everyone of them being a very bad badie, the commander and Voight agreed. Nobody's going anywhere till we catch this guy. Partially because of the urgency of the case and partially because all of the people we'd arrested were in a very good position to say, act against us in some way or another, whether it be kidnapping or beating or just fucking killing us. Anyway. Moving on.

And who is this fantastic man who shot me twice and has Coke lords, gang leaders and murderers as friends? Victor Tran, your average guy, not really good looking, wears glasses and is an accountant at some insurance firm. Upon busting his murdering friend in the middle of, well, _murdering_, he had quickly turned his gun on us and I freaked out Dawson some more when I went down.

Actually, I freaked everyone out on that one, because we were all in a group and I was kinda in front, so when I got hit in the stomach with what felt like a sledgehammer, I wasn't too keen on staying standing.

Course, Erin found a way to direct her worry into anger and since the guy was dead that anger ended up being directed at _me._ I mean like fuck logic, this girl yelled at me for how I _fell._

Yup. Erin Lindsay chewed me out because _after being shot_ I fell to the ground the wrong way.

See when I was in Afghanistan, one of the things my C.O. Taught me was how to stay on my feet. He stressed it as a vital skill I'm surviving the desert. At that point, I hadn't really accepted death yet, so, since I really didn't want to meet the grim reaper, I learned how to stay standing.

Therefor, when I was hit in the stomach, my feet instantly corrected for the huge counterforce. They quickly scooted back multiple steps, that, while uneven and shaky, kept me upright so I could fully feel the sensations of being hit.

See when you are shot normally it's a lot different. Either you can't feel it for a little bit or its instantly there, but it's as though somebody shoved a red hot rod of metal through you. And that rod of metal sends white hot flames of agony across your body that can grow until you pass out or die. Good news is, if you go into shock, you can't feel anything and if you lose enough blood, you can't feel anything, so sometimes you find yourself wishing you would die already, because the pain would stop.

Being hit in the vest tends to have varying result. Depending on the caliber of the bullet and size of the gun depends on how big the bruise. But unlike when you are shot normally, you tend to get pushed back and fall. That is because it's like an adult punching a kid. Kid will fall, be really hurt and most likely emotionally scarred but he will be ok. (Horrible analogy I know, but really, most cops are like four year olds anyway.)

However when you are shot in real time, it's like the kid stabbing the adult. Adult stays standing, but depending on where he was stabbed, it could get really bad really fast. Moral of the story: when hit in the vest, you fall. When hit in real life, you can stay standing...but it normally means you aren't ok.

So when I was hit, I stayed standing. Which to Erin (as the previous explanation was all her words to me in the car ride back the precinct) means I was actually shot. Like 'the bullet missed the vest and her boyfriend is now going bleed to death' shot. This fact was solidified in her mind when I slowly stumbled to my knees as the pain seemed to literally rock my body, waves of it pulsing through my nerves.

That was when the second bullet hit me, smack dab in the center of the chest. I was thrown backward with an 'oof' and, much to my personal chagrin, proceeded to curl into a ball on the ground while I tried to understand what the fuck was going on and why I couldn't breath.

I also, (as more proof to Erin I was really shot) didn't hear my team calling my name in multiple degrees of panic. I believe it was when Voight yelled my last name that I vaguely heard it, but he was the last voice and I didn't respond so maybe Linds has a point when she says 'everyone thought you were dead or dying.'

It took a couple minutes, but in that time the subject was finally subdued and I could see colors and detail and take semi-relaxed breaths. Lindsay had sprinted over the second it was clear, ignoring my words of protest and rolling me onto my back. It wasn't until she did a full body inspection in which all she found was two slugs in my vest that she finally heard my 'I'm okay's. After which she moved her hands that had previously rested on my face to my chest where she dropped her head and closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It was kinda sweet, in a messed up way, that she cares that much about me. It also meant she was going to be weird for the next week or so while she tried to get over me being shot. Of course she'll never admit that as confirmed by the way she raised her head from my chest, pursed her lips and punched me in the shoulder before helping me stand up.

So, to sum up the last four days: three very dangerous creeps off the street along with about fifty kilos of uncut cocaine. I've been shot and in a car accident, Ruzek was in a fist fight with a perp, Lindsay was almost shot point blank in the head (I really didn't need that kind of terror, thank you) and Al was almost road kill. Three kids were discovered dead, another is in a coma (we found him yesterday morning, Tran probably thought he was dead) and as of right now, assuming Tran will keep up his progression of killing, we have about six hours to catch him.

And I really hope we do it in less than that because I don't know how much longer I can stay standing. Or conscious. Both at the same time is becoming an issue.

* * *

**Erin's P.O.V.**

If we make it through today alive, I am going to kill Jay Halstead. Its cute how he thinks he can hide from us the fact that he's not sleeping. Well. Hide from _me_, anyway. Pretty sure everyone but Al and maybe Mouse don't know. I don't know how long, but I know he didn't get any sleep last night, and probably very little the night before. The only reason I have yet to chew him out about it, is because of his sleepless nights, we finally have a lead.

After being rudely awoken at five by Al, I was instantly contrite after learning that we might have a clue as to Tran's current hideout. Curtesy of my partner who would be staying at the hospital if I had my way. Right where Will can look after him.

However I must not be the only one thinking this, because as I walk into the bullpen I can hear Antonio and Voight arguing about a particular "too stubborn for his own good" guy getting geared up downstairs.

"Erin can you talk to your idiot boyfriend-"

"And what?" I ask, full of worried, exhausted anger. "Convince him not to go on the raid that might finally end this case from hell and apprehend a guy who rapes and kills kids, solely on the information _he _found? I may be good, but I'm not that good." I glance at Hank.

"You're the boss, if you really wanted him benched you'd make him stay here." Voight is saved from a reply as Mouse walks slowly up the stairs.

"Warrant's all set. I printed the blue prints, Halstead and Alvin are looking them over downstairs waiting for you." He pauses seemingly nervous about something. I take a good look at the man. He's probably slept as much as Jay, if the same pale skin, dark circles and glassy eyes are any indication.

"Sarg?"

"Hmm?"

"I-I, uh, I know this is really your kinda thing, and I'm not trying to undermine you or anything I just-"

"Mouse."

"Yes sir."

"Spit it out." Another pause.

"I just, I dont think its a good idea that Jay goes on the...raid thingy." Hank raises and eyebrow, and suddenly I know what side of the argument he was on.

"And why is that?" He asks in false intrigue.

"Well, for starters he was shot. Twice." I reasurt my presence, glaring daggers at Voight's being.

"He was in a car accident that hospitalized two people and left him unconscious for almost twenty minutes." Antonio pipes up right after I do, and then mouse just kinda drops a bomb on me:

"I think he's sick." The quiet voice is not what I expected to come out of his mouth and suddenly I'm anxious to get downstairs and make sure he's still breathing.

"Look, if Jay can't handle a couple bumps and bruises then he shouldn't have signed up to be a cop."

"_You think so?"_ I hiss, fixing him with a raging glare, which is copied by Dawson. He is way past bumps and bruises and if the case wasn't so dangerous all of us know Jay would have been sent home a long time ago. Hank sighs.

"Fine. But I'm not going to bench him. The kid has basically headed this case himself he deserves to see the end of it. If you can convince him to stay behind, you go right ahead." Groaning I march down the stairs, grabbing mouse's arm as we go.

"C'mon. We have a mission."

**...**

"You're joking right?" Inwardly cringing at the raspiness of his voice, I nudge Mouse.

"No, c'mon Jay. You don't look good man." His normally fidgety manner is amplified in the fear of angering his friend. Mentally I note that Mouse has probably seen Jay angry, enraged even, and I am so definetly going to ask him about it later.

"Jay, I'm serious. You aren't okay."

"I'm just tired like the rest of you."

"More like physically exhausted." Mouse replys, clearly thinking of his many injuries.

"And mentally." I echo, thinking of the resemblance to the Ronnie Lodiger case.

"Erin-" He warns.

"No, Jay! I'm not having you get hurt, and I mean really hurt this time because you are too tired to focus!" Instantly, I wince at my words, especially as Jay face hardens slightly. Great. Now he has resolve.

"Lindsay, there no way I am staying behind. I found this guys hidey hole, I am not going to miss the chance to put the cuffs on him."

"Jay-"

"Erin!" His voice raises dangerously for a moment, before he pauses, closing his eyes and pursing his lips as he takes a deep breath.

"Let it go." Is all he says upon reopening his exhausted blue orbs, settling on pushing a mag into his long gun and walking right past us to join the others, now more determined than ever to see this case through. Mouse looks at me.

"Well that didn't go as planned." He mutters. With a disgusted 'ugh' I grab my own gun and gear and follow my partner out. If I can't persuade him to stay for his safety, then I can sure as hell go with him to protect him.

**...**

Well it went better than I thought, if that's anything. Despite the tension filled silence in the car ride over, Jay still came about two seconds away from sleep, but then I'd brake and the change in momentum would startle him awake again, whereupon he'd act like nothing happened.

We reached the meeting spot with everyone else, all parking our cars a couple blocks away as not to notify the suspect that is hopefully residing in the building. The dull grey exterior of the orphanage where Tran used to frequently visit stands tall in the equally grey skis. Unfortunately due to lack of funds it closed, which we think is what triggered Victors killing spree. He lost his pool of boys to victimize and ended up lashing out and attacking the first victim.

After having a conversation with Doctor Charles, he informed us that he probably killed to boy in a panic, but then afterwards realized he enjoyed. A lot. And then set off to do it again. And again. And again. With each kill he discovered his preferences and dislikes, so by the fourth kid, the pattern had become pretty obvious.

Moral of the story, several neighbors had called to report a trespasser on the property, and the times all match up for the down time between the killings. We still have four hours left before he kills again, so at this point, assuming all our theory's are correct, he should be surveying his next victim right now, in the safety of his semi secure hideout.

We had discussed the entry plan before we even left the station, so once arrived we are able to instantly surround the building, radio chatter nonexistent. I round to the back entrance to meet with Alvin, while Ruzek, Atwater and Voight will all take the main entrance. Halstead's hands were shaking so bad he could barely grip his weapon. Alvin narrows his eyes at my partner, suspicious concern evident on his face.

"You alright kid?" He whispers. Jay gives a small nod that by no means does anything to appease Olinski's or my concern.

"Let's just get this done." He replies in a low raspy voice. Maybe he is getting sick. Which is exactly what his body _doesn't_ need right now.

"This is insane." I breath, too low for Jay to hear, but I'm close enough to Alvin that he throws me a sharp glance, clearly agreeing. Voight comes over the radio a couple seconds later, telling us to breach. We enter swiftly, both of us keeping an eye on Halstead. However my partner seems to be more concentrated on the task at hand, keeping the pace with us even as we pound our way up the stairs to the second floor.

The walls are vacant, as are all the rooms. Some still have painted hand prints on them, although the colors are faded and covered with a small layer of dust. We are able to tell the rooms Tran had been in because there is very little air movement, so where everything is cleaner or things have clearly been moved you know he made use of it.

Which is really disconcerting but I'm trying not t think about it, just like I'm trying not to recognize The horrible wheezing sound coming from my partner. This was such a mistake, he shouldn't be here. If we get contact (Tran bought a gun about a month ago) he'd be so vulnerable…

Fortunately we clear the second floor and reach the third and final level without meeting anyone.

_Un_fortunately, the third level is lifeless as well, and Ruzek even goes so far as to check the roof.

Nothing. Tran isn't here, which means either we were made and he moved, or he's out taking another kid. Antonio shoves a chair across the room with a loud bang before walking away slightly. I understand his connection the case, I mean the kids are barely a year younger than Diego. Finally, after we've all stood in a circle breathing slightly heavier from adrenaline and climbing two sets of stairs, Ruzek speaks in an exhausted voice.

"So what do we do now? There's no one here…" All of the sudden there's a small moan from the body behind me. I turn around just in time to see a stark white Jay pitch forward and puke straight from the gut. Everyone just stares at either him or the pile of stomach contents that grows as Jay wretches. After about five seconds of grossness, he straightens, stumbling backward a couple of drunk steps before his whole body seems to make a resolve to meet the floor.

Ruzek and Al are closest, both jumping forward to simultaneously catch the man as he goes limp. I rush over, kneeling down next to the two. One touch to his skin indicates the burning fever that's taken him.

"I'll call a bus." Atwater states, moving back to make the call but Voight stops him.

"Seriously?!" I snarl at him, anger at my boss's unwillingness to bench him.

"Just give him a second Erin, if we can drive him to the hospital, I think we'd both prefer it."

"We? Again, _seriously_?!"

"Do you remember the last time we tried to get him in an ambulance?" My mouth opens with a retort, but then I recall when the ambulance showed up after the car accident and Jay was just regaining consciousness. We had pulled him out for fear of the car lighting on fire (there was a lot of gas) and he was groggily opening his eyes with his head in my lap when fifty one showed up.

He was instantly not-so-groggy when the paramedics swarmed us, trying to check him out. Jay had freaked, scrambling wide eyed to his feet and backing away with fear in his stance. I had eventually negotiated him to get checked out, the medics finding that if he had a concussion it was extremely mild, saying he was very lucky.

My jaw snaps shut with a barely muttered 'toushé'. Soon enough I'm beginning to agree with Hank, watching as Halstead's eyes flutter open as though just to prove me wrong. He takes in everyone with one glance. Guilt flashes in the exhausted blue orbs when they see my face.

Damn right. I'm so going to kick his ass. You know. Right after he's not half dead and all.

"So you're fine right?" I deadpan, setting him with a glare as Ruzek and Al help him sit up. With a groan he grinds a palm into his eye before dropping the hand back to his lap.

"That was gross." I let out something like a growl. He flashes me a sheepish grin.

"Sorry?"

"Not even close." My voice is harsh, I know, but honestly he's almost died something like three times in the last two days. I'm officially putting him where he has no choice but to be safe. But then I'm looking at him, really looking at him, and I can see the struggle to keep his eyes open. I can see the pain in his eyes and the anguish because he knows he not be able to finish this case with us. A part of me doesn't give a damn. Another makes a promise that when we find Tran, I'm going to give Jay five minutes with him.

"Come on. We're going to the hospital. Will can keep an eye on you. " My voice cracks at the end and though he seems about to argue my expression must show him something because he complys.

"Okay." He rasps, then we are hauling him to his feet and supporting him down the stairs to a pre warmed and ready to depart vehicle courtesy of Antonio.

* * *

**Will's P.O.V.**

You know I was having a good shift. I had saved a little boy from drowning in his own blood, delivered news of a baby's good health to her parents, and even helped this little girl find her lost dog. (It was a stuffed animal with these huge, too big for the head eyes. His name was McDreamy.)

Now mind you I still had something like seven hours to go, so I wasn't really one to jinx anything. Unfortunately Nat did it for me when she commented on my good luck streak.

"What?! It's been good has it not?"

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I stare at her annoyed.

"I hate you." I joke, making her laugh, while I go back to my paper work.

"Oh come on, you're not that superstitious are you?" My phone vibrates again. This time I pull it out to check, seeing multiple texts from Erin, both of which are asking to call her, followed by a couple missed calls from her. I glare at Natalie.

"Yes. Yes I am." Slapping my pen down I hit redial and walk towards the break room, hoping for coffee.

"Hey Erin."

"_Will! Hey! Uh, so you're on shift right?"_

"Yes…." No coffee. Damn it. Now I have to go all the way to the cafeteria.

"_Okay, so don't totally freak or anything, but we're bringing Jay to med."_

I freeze.

"_Will?"_

Jesus Christ I'm an _idiot_. It didn't even cross my mind, that something could have happened to him. I mean why would Erin have called me anyway? If intelligence needs me it's always my brother that will call or text, not one them. Jesus what happened that they couldn't wait for an ambulance? Was he shot? Why would they be-

"_Will? You still there?"_

"Y-yeah. I'm here. Is-is he okay?" '_Is he okay, why the fuck would he be ok if they were bringing him to a hospital?'_

"_He's um...well…"_

"What happened? Was he hit? Is conscious? Breathing? Bleeding? Why didn't you call an ambulance?" I ramble, words leaving my lips at light speed.

"_I thought I told you not to freak out._"

"I'm not I just-"

"_Will, he's okay right now, just kinda out of it is all."_

"What was he hit with?"

"_Nothing he...look I'll explain it to you when we get there. He really just needs a bed and some X-rays. And some food. And fluids. And...we're almost there okay? Just wanted to give you the heads up."_

"Yeah. Yeah okay. Thanks Erin." With that I'm shoving my phone back in my pocket, adrenaline replacing my need for caffeine. Wiping the door open, I set a fast pace back to reception, intending on finding Manning.

"Will? Everything alright?" Mission accomplished. Turning on a heel I come face to face with her beautiful features.

"No. Not really. Could you do me a favor?" She nods, handing some files to a nurse, brow furrowed in that cute way she gets whenever she's worried.

"What up?"

"So my brothers coming in and hospital policy says we can't practice on family members so I'd really appreciate it if you could take a look at him." She's nodding before I even finish my sentence.

"Absolutely. What happened?" I take a deep breath before replying.

"I have no idea." She raises an eyebrow.

"Then how exactly do you-"

"Incoming! Nat, Will treatment four, let's go!" Manning instantly turns, half jogging her way to the room, pulling on gloves on the way over. I follow more slowly, trailing uneasily in her wake, trying to decide how I'm going to look into that room if it's Jay. Luckily Natalie solves the issue for me. She stood outside the room for second before raising her hand, palm up and facing in a simple gesture: '_stop'_.

I do. She enters the room, yelling orders. I share a glance with Maggie who walks over to look in the room before pursing her lips in understanding. She walks over to me.

"Is he-is-is it bad?" Maggie just takes my arm, gently steering me away from the room.

"Maggie...is it...I should know I…"

"Will he's going to be fine just...come on let's go find Erin. She brought him in."

"But-"

"Will!" My gaze snaps up to a flushed face Erin. We walked all the way to the waiting room without me noticing.

"Thanks Mag." She exchanges a few more words beyond that with the nurse, but I'm too caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts and fears and emotions surrounding my brother. Like why isn't his team here? Since they brought him in and didn't call an ambulance I'm assuming he's not in danger of dying but if that's the case and I know my brother how the hell did they get him to a hospital?! Christ, last time I was in his apartment he cut his arm wide open and basically forced me to try and stitch it despite the fact he was bleeding out on his counter.

"-ey Will, you okay?" I'm torn from the confusion by Lindsay's voice.

"Huh?" She exchanges a look with Maggie.

"He's been like this since he came in. I don't think he heard half of what I said on the way over."

"You know _he_ is standing right here…" Both women give me a scorning look, before Maggie breaks off to go do something else and I'm left alone to glare at Erin. She catches my eye.

"Don't look at me like that this is all his fault. I told him to go after the car accident but does he listen to me? No. "

"He was in a car accident?!" She flinches.

"I did say he needed X-rays."

"_Erin." _I growl. She sighs.

"Come on. We _both _need coffee and it's a long story. Show me to the fucking cafeteria."

…

"He hasn't slept in four days and you guys still let him go on the raid?!"

"I tried to persuade him otherwise, but Voight was right. He basically led this case, he wasn't about to quit right when we might have had Tran." She sighs, anger and guilt flashing in her eyes while she sips her coffee.

"It's okay." I grind out. She looks at me, a small, joyless smile playing on her lips.

"No, it's not. We are his team, we are supposed to take care of each other. He is my partner, I knew he wasn't okay and yet I let him come with us anyway. "

"Yes, but did you let him, or did he give you no choice?" My anger at intelligence fading, I can now see the other side of Erin's story, the fear the team had for my brother when he was shot and in the accident. I can understand being afraid to send him to a hospital, especially if all the people they recently locked away have friends. And I can especially understand how stubborn my idiot brother is.

"Jays a good guy Lindsay, but sometimes he likes to forget he's human."

"Likes to?"

"Oh yeah. There was this one time, when we were kids and I got really sick. My mom was on a business trip and my dad was….busy." I haven't touched my cup of caffeine in the last hour we've been talking, but now I find my hand picking it up and lifting the cold liquid to my mouth in an effort to alleviate the awkwardness I find in talking about my parents. Erin just smiles and gives an understanding nod, encouraging me forward with my story.

"I was throwing up _everywhere_. I puked all over Jay but instead of changing he just dragged me to the bathroom where he stayed for about a full twelve hours, getting no sleep, nothing to eat while he just keep getting stuff to help me. Best part was Jay had no idea what do and really still doesn't know what to do with a sick person, himself included. So I had to tell him what to get me. Finally it got so bad I told him he had to call 911. But he was afraid that it would warrant an investigation as to why my father wasn't there with us, and if we got taken from our parents we'd be split up and Jay...Jay couldn't have that."

I pause as a soft hand enfolds mine. Looking up I meet the sad yet completely understanding eyes of Erin Lindsay and know that she offers no judgement.

"Did you end up going? To the hospital?" I nod.

"Yeah I managed to crawl to a phone and call for help before I passed out."

"Jay didn't stop you?" I shoot her a wry smile.

"Jay was having a seizure on the bathroom floor, I wasn't really worried about him stopping me." I watch Erin's eyes widen in shock while my other hand massages the back of my neck uncomfortably.

"Turns out I had meningitis and so did Jay, but whatever strain I had must have mutated before being passed to him, so his condition ended up being much more severe than mine. Jay landed in a coma for about six days and thank god for my mother because she stopped in right as they were asking for information on us. Apparently she had a nurse who worked at the hospital and knew her and called once she saw us brought in."

"That's...good?"

"Yeah I guess it was. We stayed together and even though we both almost died I knew after that that I never wanted be as helpless as I was watching my brother shake on the ground and not know what to do. That was what really made me want to be a doctor." I raise my head to look across the table at Lindsay who is staring at me in fascination.

"What."

"Nothing, I just...Jays never told me anything about his past, while he knows all about mind. I just always figured...you know, if he barely flinched at what I went through growing up, then his childhood must have been on par with mi-"

"Will!" Her sentence is cut off by a call from across the courtyard. We both stand to meet Natalie.

"He's going to be fine." Well, that's always a good opening to a conversation.

"Extreme exhaustion was the leading issue, it was the benefactor to the dizziness, nausea, trouble breathing and extreme fatigue. He doesn't have a concussion, but there was a small brain bleed that healed itself soon after being inflicted, which probably caused the small period of unconsciousness you mentioned after the car accident. Speaking of which, we did multiple chest X-rays, finding only a couple hairline fractures in his ribs. Despite all the bruising, there was no internal damage. Now, how long did he go without sleep?"

"About four days." Erin mutters, shifting uncomfortably as Nats eyes widen.

"Wow. Well it looks like at least half of that time had been without food and he was definitely dehydrated, so we have him on fluids with a bunch of different proteins, sugars, and vitamins to get his blood sugar levels back up. He's not awake and he probably isn't going to be for a while, but we checked and brain function is decreased but normal for sleep."

"What room?" Manning smiles at Erin, before taking my arm.

"Come on Mama bear. I'll take you to him." Erin starts laughing as Natalie clearly meant me.

"Wha- I am not!"

"Yes, yes Will, you most definitely _are_." I sigh.

"It's his fault." I grumble in response to Erin as we climb onto the elevator.

Nat drops us off outside his room, but not after just about pushing Erin to a cot set up in the single patient room. It was my turn to laugh as Erin protested the entire way, only agreeing to let Manning check her out after she was threatening with being admitted right next to Jay. She was out not thirty seconds after we set up an I.V., allowing me some not so private private time with my brother.

I find myself constantly repeating in my head how it could have been worse. He could have been really hurt in the car accident or one of the bullets could have missed his vest or that Tran guy could have been waiting and attacked him. Which would have been a fight that he would've lost, because staring him in the bed, he looks weaker than a kitten. A nasal canal winds under his nose, skin white as the sheets he lays on. Each breath seems labored, yet his body looks more relaxed than I've seen him in years.

Probably because he's too out of it to put those stupid walls he built to keep people out. The ones I wasn't there to watch him build, because New York seemed more important than being here while my mother was dying. You know, I honestly believe that when she died, she took a little part of Jay with him. The happy part really, because yes, Erin has given a reason to smile again, but he is nowhere near what he used be like when we were kids.

The lightness that my brother had is gone, taken by death and his time overseas. It was always so wierd as kid, being his brother. People had a tendency to want to be near him, get close to him, but we're always to afraid to love him. That's all we heard in school, when we'd show up with a bruise or two. Teachers, principals, guidance counselors, they'd all say it, that people cared about us. For me, I equated that with being wanted. Jay understood it as not being good enough to be loved.

Of course, this message was solidified as Mom died holding his hand, and the first thing that came out of my father's mouth was 'It's your fault.' They never got along, my father and Jay. He always thought that being a cop was a worthless job, that they were all corrupt and dishonorable. I think that's part of the reason Jay went into the military, hoping that maybe he'd finally please our Dad.

Nope. He just said Jay should have joined the SEALs if he wanted to do anything honorable. Ironically, Jay did, but something happened, and the higher ups said he would be useful elsewhere. Meaning he was transferred to the Rangers. At least that's what he's told me. I don't understand the military at all.

"What'd you do to yourself Jay?" I sigh, not expecting answer. I know the recovery time for extreme exhaustion like this, he'll be out for the next couple hours at the very least, and then only wake up for a few minutes. His brain will restart for a couple moments, giving him consciousness, and in the process kick-starting the normal sleep cycles. Right now he's unconscious. He needs to be sleeping. More naturally anyway.

Standing, I quietly pad a couple steps to his bedside, wary of the lightly slumbering Erin next to me. I pick up one of his limp hands, cringing at the chill of his skin. Another sigh floats through my lips and I give the hand a squeeze, reaching up with my fingers to brush some of unruly hair back, something I used to do when we were kids and he was scared.

However, despite the chill in his hands, his hair is damp with sweat. Pressing the back of my palm to his forehead confirms he has a fever, and a high one at that.

"Damn it Jay, can't you for once in your life do something halfway?" I groan, tousling his hair again before turning away from the bed and exiting the room. I page Nat while I look over his charts. So he had one when he came in but I bet it's higher than one hundred now.

"Will?"

"Nat! Hey, uh, so, I know he's you case and everything, and I'm not trying to overstep or undermine you or anything-"

"Will."

"Yeah."

"Stop."

"Ok."

"He's your brother, I'm surprised you've kept me away this long." I nod for a moment before considering her words.

"Wait what?"

"Just-what do you need?"

"I think his fever's gone up." I accompany the words with a sheepish grin. She smiles, rolling her eyes.

"There, was that so hard?"

"Yes." Scoffing she enters the room, but I stay behind for a moment, not wanting to be in there in case I become reduced to the worried family member who can't do anything but ask questions in a panic.

Of course, I'm thinking that might happen anyway, especially when Dr. Manning suddenly yells for me.

"Will, get in here!" I sprint through the door only to freeze four feet from Jay's bed. My brother's condition has rapidly deteriorated in the five minutes I've been absent from the room. His lips are blue, the cause of which made apparent by his struggle to breathe. He is squirming, back arched in the effort to intake air and a harsh wheezing sound comes from his mouth.

"-ill I need you to help me! _Will_!" The sharp tone snaps me out of my revere and I jump forward to help hold him down. Nat snatches the oxygen mask from beside the bed, quickly affixing it over Jay's face. But something breaks through my panic, something in his movements that sparks a memory. Manning mutters something about his lungs being clear.

"Maybe his chest is cramping-"

"He's having a panic attack."

"What?!"

"He's having a nightmare and it's causing a panic attack. it used to happen when he was a kid, we just have to calm him down!"

"Will-"

"Just trust me I can calm him down!" She hesitates but a moment before backing up, a worried look on her face as she glances between Jay and the monitors. Without a moment to think about what I'm doing, my open palm connects with my brothers face. Natalie yells at me, something I don't hear as I struggle to keep a calm voice while talking to Jay.

It takes another hard slap, but suddenly Jay heaves a enormous breath, eyes snapping open and searching wildly for something to make sense of.

"Hey, hey, Jay, you're okay, you're okay, just look at me, look at me Jay!" His chest is still heaving, but his hands have latched onto my arms, clawing at my skin in terror.

"Look at me Jay, come on." I whisper and then finally, _finally_, his blue green eyes snap to mine.

And it's like everything just stills. He states at me in a sort of amazement, like he can't believe I'm here standing above him. His breathing evens out to these huge gasps as he sucks in air like he's never had it before.

"Will?" He rasps, blinking rapidly as awareness returns to him and he relinquishes his death grip on my arms. I slow allow him to sink back into the pillows.

"Yeah Jay, I'm right here. I'm right here." The gasping diminishes and it's then I finally am able to take in the rest of the room.

April is standing in the doorway looking shocked next to Reese, who looks more embarrassed to be there than anything else. Natalie is standing on the other end on the room, a hand on the shoulder of Erin, who had her hands pressed against her mouth with glassy eyes. No one says a word and the sound of us breathing fills the room. I swallow hard.

"Nat can you give us a minute." My voice is low and hard, but Manning just nods and quietly leaves the room, taking the other two girls with her, but leaving Erin where she sits.

"Where am I?" I turn my attention back to my brother.

"You're in the hospital. Do you...remember anything?" His brow creases for a moment.

"I...I remember I got sick and…" His gaze roams for a second, focusing on something else behind me.

"...Erin?" A huge gasping sob is immediately heard from the girl, a loud sniffle following right after. She removes the hands from her mouth giving a tiny smile.

"Hey." Although Jays smirk looks more like a grimace, he does make the attempt and the effort seems to spur Erin over to the bed. She slouches into a chair next to the bed, punching him the shoulder.

"You asshole." Comes the weak reply, sniffle included.

"Is that all?" He asks, finally giving a full blown grin, looking slightly loopy still from exhaustion.

"Yes. You don't _ever _get to do that again." She's still crying, tears streaming down her face at a slower pace now. Her voice is weak and worried and I can see just how much stress Jay put on her by doing this. Really, I'm angry at the whole situation, but Jay just...ugh. I'm so laying into him after he gets better.

Mind you I'd do it now, but he isn't going to be awake for long. I can already see his eyelids drooping, the effort of talking and thinking and the whole nightmare thing taking a toll.

"This so isn't over." Jay nods at her statement, then murmurs something that only she hears. Erin nods, crosses the room in what seems like a single stride, then climbs her way onto his bed, curling into his side. I take this as my cue to leave, shutting off the small overhead light. I'm about to go, leave a try and concentrate of my actual job, but a whisper holds me there, just a for a second longer.

"Will." It suddenly seems hard to swallow, looking at Jay, eyes closed but awake , with Erin tucked in next to him.

"Yeah."

"Thank you." I nod, because it's easier than talking, but Jay's too tired to see it, and even though I know they are both asleep, I still stand next to him and push a hand through his hair like I would when we were kids. My response is just as quiet as his voice was, just as emotionally charged. It challenges our ways, to actually express affection for each other, and while worry is allowed, and anger is common, most other feelings are not.

Yet this doesn't stop me from pressing my forehead to his, just for a second, and telling him just how much of a dork he is. The closest I can right now, to saying how much he means to me.

To all of us.

* * *

**And there you have it! hopefully the length makes up for like 5% of the waiting I've made you do...probably not. *Sighs* I am really just...damn. Sorry.**

**Review? Make the next one go up quicker?**


	7. G is for Grenade

**Um yeah. Hi. **

* * *

Carnage.

Seven letters all combined to create a word of its own. Devastating. Destruction. Violence. Silence. All words that were commonly associated with each other. Whenever something happened, it wasn't just carnage. It wasn't just violence. It was always a devastating act of violence. Or carnage that led to silence and destruction. It was always more than what it should have been.

It all led to the same thing though.

Death.

Sometimes there was purpose, but sometimes, and more often times than not, there was no reason. No plan. Nothing that would have made sense to those that had any sense of sanity remaining in their body. There was nothing that would indicate the events of those that have nothing left to lose. Nothing that would explain why this would happen to them.

It was like the earth had stopped turning and time was standing still. Even the wind had died down. The windy city and it wasn't windy.

There was ringing, and it nearly crushed her skull inwardly as it continued to persist right inside her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, (or had they even opened?) And tried to breathe. Every breath that entered her body was with a vengeance. As if the very breath that was supposed to save her was actually suffocating her. As it filled her lungs with the acrid taste of smoke and a light copper undertone, she wanted it to stop, but what little oxygen was slowly filling her lungs, was enough to keep her lucid and just barely conscious. So she continued to gasp for breaths around the horrible particles in the air.

Her fingertips began to tap at the pavement underneath them. Pavement? There was a solid top covered with little rocks. Lots of rocks and pebbles and glass that must have been misplaced or blown around or something?

Blown around?

Blown.

The grenade.

The ringing in her ears seemed to dull down to a muffled throb that resonated in the back of her eyes. For the first time since she became aware of her circumstances, Erin Lindsay opened her eyes.

-and wished she hadn't.

Before this mess, it had just been Erin and Jay walking to their car at the end of shift. Erin joking about how the blood would never come out of his favorite shirt, after a kick in the head earlier in the day resulted in butterfly bandages holding together a small split on his chin. After Will had rolled his eyes at Erin and confirmed that Jay wasn't dying and wouldn't even need stitches, Erin had finally deemed the moment funny. Jay might have thought so as well, but because of the miniscule drop of blood that had landed on his shirt, it had 'ruined his day'.

Jay knew he wasn't driving, so the two had split up as they approached the car right beside the station, in the alleyway near the rollup, Jay walking towards the passenger seat, Erin walking around the back of the car towards the driver's seat.

"Jay, babe, don't worry, it'll add character-" It had started as a quip over the top of the vehicle, as Erin tried to continue the pointless conversation, but a deafening boom, slightly muffled by distance, originating from around the front of the building. She had stopped talking as abruptly as the noise had begun.

Jay had stopped at some point as well. He didn't move as he looked over the roof of the car to Erin, eyes wide, a startling shade of fear in them that had froze me in place. Erin was the first who was able to have words stumble from her lips as she watched Jay's entire posture change from that of a good natured frown, to that of surprise. The surprise shortly was short lived as he transitioned into something she only saw in rare occurrences. His face became stone, his eyes betrayed him as panic raged war within him. "What…" It was Erin who seemingly recovered first, enough to slip words from her lips.

"That was a grenade." As soon as the words had left his mouth, he was running. Erin began to follow but his legs were longer and were propelling him along faster. Instead, she took a different approach of running back where they had originally came from. She cut across the precinct, and collecting as many officers that she could. As if they weren't all already running towards the front of building as well. There were officers practically climbing over each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

It was as she was running out the precinct, about to run down the few steps that she heard the sound that she knew would haunt her for the remainder of her days.

"_Get down! There's a bomb!"_

It wasn't the sentence itself that terrified her but it wasn't a comforting thing to hear by any means. It wasn't the weightlessness and then the nothingness that followed that caused her panic to spike.

No. It was Jay's tone, the inflection, the sound of the words being ripped forcefully from his mouth that she would remember for the rest of her life. It was the fact that Jay, her Jay, was the one who had to warn everybody, which meant that he was too close.

As she opened her eyes again, and focused back on the present moment, she looked out at the dissipating smoke lingering heavily in the streets, at the blue clothed officers, all knocked back like a messed up game of dominos, each office knocking over the one behind them. The officers were lying so far back that some were lying half in the precinct. Her body laying on the top three steps of the precinct. Her head resting, on another slowly awakening officers leg, she felt a chill seep into her bones as she checked to make sure the officer was ok. She shakily made her way to her feet.

There were bricks everywhere and car parts strewn across the street-

And bodies. There were at least 15 officers and civilians a like, all of them laying crookedly in the road. Their blood mixing with whatever liquids were lying in puddles in the road. Smoke was still sitting heavily in the street, no wind to push it away. Her head was pounding, and she kept feeling herself sway as she continued to survey the street, climbing to her feet. She could almost guarantee that she shouldn't be standing right now, obviously she was concussed but she had more pressing matters.

Pressing matters… her partner. Babe. Jay. Where was Jay? He was here, almost right in front of her. She looked down at the wreckage again, watching as people began to stand like herself, others rushing to help those that were still down…

But she didn't see him. She could feel her breath catch in her throat and she slowly stepped around the men and women she served with. Making her way onto the street.

It was almost like somebody had hit a switch, the moment her feet hit the pavement of the street sounds began to flood her brain. Groaning, creaking, yelling, sirens, just noise that left her breathless as she leaned over for a second, her head pounding with a vengeance. She could feel her previous meal begin to make an appearance as she stumbled, the street suddenly lurching like a wave…

She lost all control the moment she smelled the burnt flesh. She didn't see it, and she wasn't sure how, out of all the smells currently overwhelming her, she was smelling that, but suddenly her previous meal was no longer settled in her stomach but rather on the tips of her shoes and the road before her.

She felt a gentle hand on her back beginning to lead her back towards the precinct, but Erin swatted it away. "'-ay?" She croaked, the bile taste still acrid in her mouth. She looked up at the comforting hand, and noticed Trudy, blood matting the left side of her head and staining her hands. "You're hurt Erin, you need to sit down."

"I NEED SOME HANDS OVER HERE!" Erin's head shot up at the words, recognizing Voight's voice. Where he had come from, she had no idea. He had soot all over his face though, and there is a stream of sweat running down his face as Erin starts for him.

Trudy holds her back though, and Erin can't tell why because there is debris blocking her from seeing what Trudy is seeing. But Trudy is glancing from Voight, back to whatever sits below his kneeling form. Then she sees more of Intelligence. First there's Atwater, who must have been caught in the explosion, blood all over his hands she notices after he lifts them up from whatever he is concentrating on that is out of her view.

Then Adam bobs his way over, his face a somber version of the irritability that she had seen from him in the past. Then Kim is there and then there are a few more officers.

She wasn't sure where Jay was though, she hadn't seen him since the explosion and…

"_..There's a bomb…"_

For the first time since this event took place, Erin experienced moment of clarity as she realized that the man she loved was nowhere in sight. That being said, she also realized that the one place she could not see was at the center of the growing crowd.

It was in that moment that Erin understood why Trudy had her arms draped around Erin in just the way that would render her incapable of being able to move away from Trudy and towards the crowd. It was in that moment that Erin realized that the sweat running down Voights face was not sweat, rather tears. That look that Erin had mistaken for irritability on Ruzeks face was thinly veiled fear and sadness. The blood on Kevin's hands, not all Kevin's.

Erin felt her heads throbbing with each ragged breath she took, as she felt time begin to stand still. It was in slow motion that she ripped herself from Platt's grip and began to limp over to Voight's side. She keeps her eyes up at first, not sure if she would be able to bear whatever lied in front of him, but after a few moments, and a few steps later, she stops looking up, and faces it rather.

He wasn't sure what noise she made, as time jumped from a standstill to a live stream of the events unfolding before her, but she could feel the distraught cry leave her lips as she looked at the bloodied and partly singed man below her.

It's his partly open eyes that she takes in first, as they scream silently in pain. Then it's the fine layer of blood coating his face that pours from a gash in his singed hairline. She looks further down and sees what Voight saw, that brought panic to his voice. His shirt was ripped apart and his chest looked the same way. Puncture wounds, and gashes and the over all 'through the ringer' look. She doesn't know how she went from standing before him, to kneeling besides Jay, but at some point it happened. She grabbed his hand as his eyes lazily rolled to look up into hers, and she can't believe it but he smiled. His smile betrayed the pain in his eyes, and his bloodied teeth betray the man's machoism, but she knows it's for her.

She feels herself begin to shake as she squeezes his hand harder as she tries to smile back, but the moment her lips begins to quiver, she feels her eyes start to leak down onto her chin and past her jawline. "I don't think the blood's gonna come out of the shirt." He whispers the words, and Erin is surprised that she hears them, but she does as she rolls her eyes, much to her head's protest.

His eyes slam shut as he lets loose a cough at the end of his sentence, his chest arching into the air as she watches him writhe in agony at the harsh movements the cough forced from him. It takes a few seconds, and more tears, and her rubbing his hair gently, patting it downwards for him to stop coughing. But it takes her own words for his eyes to open again. "I could have told you that," Erin tries to fake another smile, as she glances at Voight who is delegating all the officers around her to help the others. She can hear the sirens, but she knows that this could take time. Time Jay didn't have. "You really didn't have to go through all this to prove it though."

He goes to speak, sucking in small breath after breath but she shakes her head. "Don't do it, you saw how well that worked for you last time. Just keep your eyes on me... just keep your eyes on me." That's all she says, and he listens, at least for a few minutes. After the first minute, she continues to talk to him again, whispering reassurances to him that she's not even sure he can hear, and to be honest, they are probably more likely being said to reassure herself. The second minute, she's talking more urgently, desperately trying to keep his attention on her. The third minute, she's yelling his name, and begging him to open his eyes and reminding him of their future together if he would just open his eyes…

The fourth minute, the paramedics are there and she is ripped from his side, as the medics get to work on Jay. She sees and remembers a few things that happened next. There a tube being slid down his throat to try and alleviate some of the things Jay himself has to do. Theres also a lot of gauze and at some point there is CPR, and she knows she is screaming at this point.

But then he's gone, and she kind of fades into a dark oblivion.

* * *

Comfort

Warmth. Protection. Fuzzy goodness.

She awakens to a hand on hers, gripping it in a vice like grip. She can feel the scratchy fabric beneath her fingertips, likely a blanket of some sort, and if the beeps of the monitors surrounding her have any say, it's likely a standard issue hospital blanket.

Erin slowly opens her eyes to glance at her surroundings, the warm sunlight fading into her room and gently onto her face. It's not affecting the dull ache in her head as much as she thought it would. She first looks to the hand that's gripping her own, and follows it up the length of an arm and her eyes come to rest on Hank, who is staring at her with a watchful gaze. "Hey."

She goes to speak, but instead clears her voice. The back of her throat feeling like a cat's scratching board. "Here, have some ice to suck on. They gave you as much oxygen as you needed but you still breathed in a lot of that smoke."

"W't 'pened?" Erin asked, the day's events coming back to her in lazy, slow pieces.

"I can tell you about it la-"

"Now." It was a demand, and Hank knew that if he didn't tell her, she would find someone that would.

"There was an explosion." Noting the dubious expression on Erin's face, Voight shrugged, "Just making sure you remember."

"Actually there were two. The first, a grenade. Someone threw one into a police car with its windows down. Blew the car up. Come to find out that someone had planted an actual bomb in a box in the middle of the street. It was a shrapnel bomb and it did a lot of damage."

Erin didn't miss the far away look in his eyes as he glanced out the hospital room door, taking another breath. He looked showered, so obviously he wasn't out there catching whoever had done it, which could have meant a few things. Maybe Erin had been out for a few days. Maybe they already caught the guy. Maybe something had gone really wrong…

"Jay?"

"Will's with him now. Obviously he took the brunt of the explosion. They were pulling nails and metal marbles out of his chest, organs, and bones for hours, but that stubborn bastard made it. He's in critical care, but doctors have a fairly good outlook." Voight looked back at her. "Nobody died today except for the guy who did this, and he did it to himself. I'm walking away happy from all this so don't dwell on it Erin."

Erin nodded, her eyelids sliding shut on her own accord. She felt Voight's hand give a squeeze. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here when you wake."

And she did, and he was.

It took a couple days for Erin to be released, she had received a moderate concussion, and told to rest. And she did.

She hadn't meant to not go home in all fairness, but she needed to go to the store for some reason or another, and just so happened to run into the shirt that Jay had loved so much more than life itself.

So she bought it, and of course Erin had to be the one to give it to him...when he woke up.

So Will made some arrangements, and three days later, 6 days after the initial grenade and surgery. Jay woke up.

He woke up, saw the shirt, and:

"What do you know, the blood came out."

* * *

**aaaannnnddd bye**


End file.
